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FROM THE LIBRARY OF
REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D.
BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO
THE LIBRARY OF
PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2012 with funding from
Princeton Theological Seminary Library
http://archive.org/details/beadlesdi19newy
beadleN^
Song Book
No. 1.
A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPUT^E
GOMIG AND SENTIMENTS
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
ITKW YORK: 118 WILLIAM ST
LONDOX : 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year IS."!),
3t IB WIN P. BEADLE,
In the Clerk1? Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
B. B. N*. 1.
CONTENTS.
A good time coming, 63
Alfs for the best, 31
A national song, 45
Annie Laurie, 40
Answer to a thousand a year, 9
Answer to Kate Kearney, 20
A thousand a year, 8
Belle Brandon, - 46
Ben Bolt, 25
Blind orphan boy's lament, .... 58
Bob Ridley, 41
Bold privateer, 49
Don't be angry, mother, 38
Do they miss me at home? 35
Down "the river, 17
E plurihus unum, Gl
Evening star, 38
Faded flowers, 23
Gentle Annie, ------- 5
Gentle Jennie Gray, 22
Glad to get home, 57
Hard times, 24
Have you seen my sister? 18
I leather dale, 50
Home again, 21
I am not angry, 33
I want to go heme, - 48
Kate Kearney, - 2C
me quick and go, - U
Kitty Clyde, 11
My home in Kentuck, 34
My own native land, 37
Nelly Gray, 6
Kelly was a lady, If
CONTENTS.
rial.
Old dog Tray, 53
Our Mary Ann, 33
Over the mountain, 28
Poor Juney, ... 26
Poor old slave, 7
J ted, white and blue, 54
Row, row, --29
Shells of the ocean, 39
Song of the sexton, - 42
Star-spangled banner, 15
The age of progress, 50
The dying Californian, 47
The hills of New England, 63
The lake-side shore, 59
The little blacksmith, 27
The Marseilles hymn, 51
The miller of the Dee, 30
The old form house, 39
The old folks we loved long ago, - - - - 04
The old play-ground, 40
The rock of liberty, 55
The sword of Bunker Hill, 19
The tempest, 60
Twenty years ago, 10
Twinkling stars, 52
Uncle Sam's farm, - ... 43
Unfurl the glorious banner, 36
Wait for the wagon, - 44
Willie, we have missed you, - - • -12
Willie'll roam no more, 18
BEADLE'S
dime songbook.
usto. 1.
-^•+- .
Gentle Annie.
Copied by permiagion of Firth, Pon*d k Co., 547 Broadiray, o
of the copyright.
Thou will come no more, gentle Annie —
Like a flower thy spirit did depart ;
Thou art gone, alas ! like the many,
That have bloom' d in the summer of my heart.
CH-v
Shall we never more behold thee,
Never hear thy winning voice again,
When the spring time conies, gentle Annie,
When the wild flown g :*d o'er the plain ?
We have roam'd and loved 'mid the bowers,
When thy downy cheeks were in bloom ;
Now I stand alone 'mid the flow.-
While they mingle their perfumes o'er thy tomfc.
Chorm. — Shall we never more, &c.
Ah ! the hours grow 3ad while I ponder
Near the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strav'd.
Choru9. — Shall we never more, &c.
5
Nelly Gray.
There's a low green valley on the old Kentueky short,
There I've whiled many happy hours away,
A sitting and a singing by the little cottage door
Where lived my darling Nelly Gray.
CHORUS.
Oh, my poor Nelly Gray, they have taken you away,
And 1 11 never see my darling any more,
I'm sitting by the river and I'm weeping all the day,
For you've gone from old Kentucky shore.
When the moon had climb'd the mountain, and the stars were
shining too,
Then I'd take my darling Nelly Gray,
And we'd float down the river in my little light canoe-
While my banjo sweetly I would play.
Oh, my poor Nelly Gray, &c.
One night I went to see her, but she's gone, the neighbors say,
The white man bound her with his chain —
They have taken her to Georgia for to wear her life away,
As she toils in the cotton and the cane.
Oh, my poor Nelly Gray, Ac.
My canoe is under water, and my banjo is unstrung,
I'm tired of living any more :
My eyes shall look downward, and my songs shall be unsu^
While I stay on old Kentucky shore.
Oh, my poor Nelly Gray, &c.
My eyes are getting blinded and I can not see my way,
Hark ! there's somebody knocking at the door :
Oh, I hear the angels calling, and I see my Nelly Gray;
Farewell to the old Kentucky shore.
CHORUS.
Oh, my Nelly Gray, up in heaven there they say
That they'll never take you from me any more :
Fm a coming, coming, coming, as the angels clear the vnsy
Farewell to the oJcf Kentucky shore.
Poor Old Slave.
©*pie4 by permission of Russell & Tolmax, 291 Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
'Tis just one year ago to-day,
That I remember well,
I sat down by poor Nelly's side
A story she did tell ;
Twas about a poor, unhappy slave
That lived for many a year ;
But now he's dead an 3 in his grave,
No master does he fear.
Chorus. — The poor old slave has gone to rest,
We know that he is free ;
Disturb him r.ot, but let him rest,
Way down in Tennessee.
She to^k my arm, we w*lk'd along
Into an open field,
And here she paused to breathe awhile,
Then to his grave did steak
She sat down by that little mound,
And softly whisper' d there,
" Come to me, father, 'tis thy child,"
Then gently dropp'd s. tear.
Chorus. — The poor old slave, kc.
But since that time, how things have changed,
Poor Xelly that was my bride,
Is laid beneath the cold grave-sod,
With her father by her side.
I planted there upon her grave,
The weeping-willow tree,
I bathed its roots with maay a tear,
That it might shelter me.
Chorus.— The poor old slawv &c.
A Thousand a Year.
Robin Ruff —
If I had but a thousand a year, Gaffer Green —
If I had but a thousand a year,
What a man would I be, and what sights would I see,
If I had but a thousand a year.
Gaffer Green. —
The best wish you could have, take my word, Robin Ruff,
Would scarce find you, in bread or in beer ;
But be honest and true, say what would you do,
If you had but a thousand a year.
Robin Ruff. —
I'd do — I scarcely know what, Gaffer Green,
I'd go — faith, I scarcely know where ;
I'd scatter the chink, and leave others to think,
If I had but a thousand a year.
Gaffer Green. —
But when you are aged and gray, Robin Ruff,
And the day of your death it draws near,
Say, what with your pains, would you do with your gains
If you then had a thousand a year ?
Robin Ruff. —
I scarcely can tell what you mean, Gaffer Green,
For your questions are always so queer ;
But as other folks die, I suppose so must I, —
Gaffer Green. —
What ! and give up your thousand a year ?
There's a place that is better than this, Robin Ruff, —
And I hope in my heart you'll go there, —
Where the poor man's as great though he hath no estate,
Ay, as if he'd a thousand a year.
Answer to A Thousand a
Year.
Have you heard the strange news just come down, Gaffer
Green,
That they're talking of now far and near?
How young Robin Ruff has his wish sure enough,
And he's now got a thousand a year, Gaffer Green !
He's now got a thousand a year !
Young Rob's a good heart, and Tin glad Master Cross,
Oh, it will not spoil bim, never fear !
In the face of the poor he will not shut his door.
Though he has got a thousand a year, Master Cross!
Though he has got a thousand a year !
But 'twould be but the way of the world. Gaffer Green,
If he did not see now quite so clear ;
They say yellow mists rise, and soon dim a man's eyes.
When he once gets a thousand a year, Gaffer Green!
When he once gets a thousand a year !
Robin's eyes were not dim t'other day, Master Cross,
When his poor old friend Harry was here ;
Robin soon cured his pain, and soon made sunshine again,
With a touch of his thousand a year, Master Cross!
With a touch of his thousand a year !
Ah ! but Rob must take care, must take care, Gaffer Green,
Or he'll spend all his new-gotten gear;
How much better 'twould be — he may want it, you sec —
If he saved all his thousand a year, Gaffer Green!
If he saved all his thousand a year !
If he spends the last pound that he's got, Master Cross,
He'll be richer than some folks, I tear ;
For a heart such as Rob's, though 'neath tatters it throbs,
Li worth ten times a thousand a year, Master Cross.'
Is worth ten times a tkousaid a year !
10
Twenty Years Ago.
Jhave wander' d by the village, Tom— I've eat beneath the tree,
Upon the school-house playing-ground which shelter'd you and 9M ;
But none are left to greet me^Tom, and few are left to know
That play'd with us upon the green just Twenty Years Ago.
The gras9 is just as green, dear Tom, bare-footed boy9 at play
Are sporting just as we were then, with spirits just as gay ;
But master sleeps upon the hill, all coated o'er with snow,
That afforded us a sliding-place just Twenty Years -Ago.
The old school-house is alter'd some, the benches are replaced
By new ones, very like the same our penknives had defaced ;
But the same old bricks are in the wall, the bell swings to and fro,
The music just the same, dear Tom, 'twas Twenty Years Ago.
The boys are playing some old game, beneath that same old tree,
I do forget the name just now — you have play'd the same with me ;
On that same spot 'twas play'd with knives, by throwing bo and so,
The leaders had a task to do there Twenty Years Ago.
The river is running just as still— the willows on its side
Are larger than they were, dear Tom, the stream appears less wide ;
The grape-vine swing is ruin'd now, where once we play'd the beau,
And swung our sweethearts, pretty girls, just Twenty Years Ago.
The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill, close by the spreading beach,
Is very high — 'twas once so low that we could almost reach,
But in kneeling down to get a drink, dear Tom, I started so,
To see how sadly I am changed since Twenty Years Ago,
Down by the spring upon an elm you know I cut your name —
Your sweetheart is just beneath it Tom— and you did mine the samo,
Some heartless wretch has peel'd the bark — 'twas dying sure but slow,
Just as the one whose name you cut did Twenty Years Ago.
My lids have long been dry, dear Tom, but tears come in my eyes,
I thought of her I loved so well— those early broken ties ;
I visited the old churchyard, and took some flowers to strew
Upon the graves of those we loved some Twenty Years Ago.
Some are in the churchyard laid, some sleep beneath the sea,
But few are left of our old class, excepting you and me :
But when our time shall come, dear Tom, and we are cail'd to go.
I hope they'H lay m were we play'd just Twenty Years Ago*
11
Kitty Clyde.
Sopied by permission of Risskll k Tclmax, 201 Washington St~r
Boston, owners of the copyright.
Oh, who has not seen Kitty Clyde?
She liveiat the foot of the hill,
in a sly little nook by the babbling brook,
That carries her father's old mill.
Oh, who does not love Kitty Clyde?
That sunny eyed, rosy cheek'd kss,
With a sweet dimpled chin that looks roguish as sin,
With always a smile as you pass.
Sweet Kitty, dear Kitty, my own su'ep.t Kitty Clyde,
In a sly little nook by the babbling brook,
Lives my own sweet Kitty Clyde.
With a basket to put in her fish,
Every morn with a line and a hook,
This sweet little lass, through the tall heavy grass,
Steals along by the clear running brook.
She throws her line into the stream,
And trips it along the brook side,
Oh, how I do wish that I was a fish.
To be caught by sweet Kitty Clyde.
Sweet Kitty, dear Kitty, kc.
flow I wish that I was a Bee,
I'd not gather honey from flowers,
But would steal a dear sip from Kitty's sweet lip,
And make my own hive in her bowers.
Or, if I was some little bird,
I would not build nests in the air,
But keep close by the side of sweet Kitty Clyde,
And sleep in her soft silken hair,
Sweet Kitty, dear Kitty, &c.
12
Willie, we have Missed Yon.
•opied by permisson of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, owners
of the copyright.
Oh ! Willie, is it you, dear, safe, safe at home ?
They did not tell me true, dear, they said you would not
come,
I heard you at the gate, and it made my heart rejoice,
For I knew that welcome footstep, and that dear familiar
voice,
Making music on my ear in the Jpnely midnight gloom,
Oh! Willie, we have miss'd you; welcome, welcome home.
We've long'd to see you nightly, but this night of all ;
The fire was blazing brightly, and lights were in the hall,
The little ones were up 'till 'twas ten o'clock and past,
Then their eyes began to twinkle and they have gone to
sleep at last ;
But they listen'd for your voice till they thought you'd
never come,
Oh ! Willie, we have miss'd you ; welcome, welcome home.
The days were sad without you, the nights long and drear,
My dreams have been about you, oh, welcome, Willie dear
Last night I wept and watch'd, by the moonlight's cheerles
ray,
Till I thought I heard your footsteps, then I wiped my tears
away,
But my heart grew sad again, when I found you had not
come ;
Oh 1 Willie, we have missed you ; welcome, welcome home.
13
Willie'll Roam no More.
t'es, Mary, I have come, love, across the dark, blue sea,
To our peaceful, quiet home, love, our little ones and thee;
I've watch' d and waited nightly for the welcome hour to
come,
When happily and brightly all the dear delights of home
Should greet my listening ear, love, upon my native shore ;
Then wipe away thy tears, Mary, for thy Willie'll roam no
more.
CHORUS.
Thy Willie'll roam no more, thy Willie'll roam no more,
Then wipe away thy tears, Mary, for thy Willie'll roam no
more.
How often since I left you, love, in solitude and tears,
Ilave I bless'd that love which clung to me through many
changing years ;
And while I paced the silent deck, forgotten and alone,
Has my heart recall'd thy love-lit smile, thv sweet and
gentle tone.
Thy image, love, has e'er been shrined within this fond
heart's core ;
But wipe away thy tears, Mary, for thy Willie'll roam no
more.
Chorus. — Thy WillieTl roam no more, &c.
Dear Mary, when in life's sweet morn, in all thy youthluJ
pride,
I bore thee, virgin, bathed in tears, from thy fond mother'
side,
A.nd prQmised at the altar to love through life as now,
Bay, Mary, when life's sorrows came, did I forget that vow!
Your heart will ownl left you, love, our fortunes to restore;
Then wipe away thy tears, Mary, for thy Willie'll tokoi no
more.
Chorut. — Thy Willie'll 10am no more, &o
14
Kiss Me Quick and Go.
The other night while I was sparking
Sweet Turlina Spray,
The more we whisper' d our love talking,
The more we had to say ;
The old folks and the little folks
We thought were fast in bed, —
We heard a footstep on the stairs,
And what d'ye think she said ?
CHORUS.
41 Oh ! kiss me quick and go my honey,
Kiss me quick and go !
To cheat surprise and prying eyes,
Why kiss me quick and go ? "
5oon after at I gave my love
A moonlight promenade,
At last we fetch'd up to the door
Just where the old folks stay'd ;
The clock struck twelve, her heart struck two (too).
And peeping over head
We saw a night-cap raise the blind,
And what d'ye think she said ?
Oh ! kiss me quick and go my honey, &c.
One Sunday night we sat together,
Sighing side by side, .
Just like twoVilted leaves of cabbage
In the sunshine fried ;
My heart with love was nigh to split
To ask her for to wed,
Said I : " Shall I go for the priest,"
And what d'ye think she said ?
( h! kiss me quick and go my honey, &c.
15
Star Spangled Banner.
6h ! say, can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we haii'dat the twilight's last gleaming;
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous
fight,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there,
Oh ! say, does the star-spangled banner still wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave ?
On the shore, dimly seen through the mist of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that, which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half eonceal'd, half discloses ?
Vow it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream ;
'Tis the star-spangled banner, Oh ! long may it wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
And where is the band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war, and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country should leave us no more ?
Their blood has wash'd out their foul footstep's pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave,
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave ;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave,
Oh ! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and war's desolation;
Bless'd with victory and peace may the Heaven-rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto — M In God is our trust !"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave-
16
Nelly was a Lady.
_*_
Down on de Mississippi floating,
Long time I trabble on de way-
All night de cotton wood a toting,
Sing for my true lub all de-day.
CH0RU6.
Nelly was a lady,
Last night she died ;
Toll de bell for lubly Nell,
My dark Virgirmy bride.
Now I'm unhappy and I'm weeping,
Can't tote de cotton-wood no more :
Last night, while Nelly was a sleeping.
Death came a knocking at de door
Nelly was a lady, &c.
When I saw my Nelly in de morning
Smile till she open'd up her eyes,
Seem'd like de light ob day a dawnlnj
Jist for de sun begin to rise.
Nelly was a lady, &c.
Close by de margin ob de water,
Whar de lone weeping-willow gic4*
Dar lib'd Virginny's lubly daughter,
Dar she in death may find repose,
Nelly was a lady, <kc.
Down in de meadow 'mong the cloba,
Walk wid my Nelly by my side :
Now all dem happy days am ober, —
Farewell, my dark Virginny bride.
Nelly was a lady, &c.
17
Down the River.
Oh ! the river is up> and the channel is deep,
And the wind blows steady and strong ;
Let the splash of your oars the measure keep,
As we row the old boat along.
Oh ! the water is bright, and flashing like golJv
In the ray of the morning sun,
And old Dinah's away up out of the cold,
A getting the hoe-cake done.
Oh ! the river is up, and the channel is deep,
And the wind blows steady and strong ;
Let the splash of your oars the measure keep,
As we row the old boat along.
Chorus. — Down the river, down the river,
Down the Ohio ;
Down the river, down the river,
Down the Ohio.
Chorus repeated.
Oh! the master is proud of the old broad-horn,
For it brings him plenty of tin;
Oh ! the crew they are darkies, the cargo is corn,
And the money comes tumbling in.
There is plenty on board for the darkies to eat,
And there's something to drink and to smoke ;
There's the banjo, the bones, and the tambourine,
There's the song, and the comical joke.
Oh ! the river is up, and the channel is deep,
And the wind blows steady and strong ;
Let the splash of your oars the measure keep,
As we row the old boat along.
Chorus. — Down the river, &c.
2*
18
Have you seen my Sister?
Say, my lovely friends, have you any pity
At your finger-ends ? then listen to my ditty.
Our Kate has gone away, last Thursday night we miss'd her;
Good people do not smile, — say, Have you seen my sister ?
If you have her seen, I hope you will advise her
To return to me, or I must advertise her ;
Her waist is very thiek, her stays give her a twister,
Now tell me, b'hoys and g'hals, Have you seen my sister ?
She squints with both her eyes, in a manner very shocking,
She's got a mouth for pies, and wears no shoes or stockings ;
I'm afraid she's gone astray, and some chap did enlist her,
I'm afraid she's gone for good ; say, Have you seen my sister ?
She wants her two front teeth, you'd see it when she'd titter.
She's got such little feet, Victoria's shoes won't fit her ;
She wears no cap at all, but a great big muslin whister,
Now tell me once for all, Have you seen my sister?
Her figure's straight and tall, her conduct's very proper,
She's well provided, for she's eighteen pence in copper.
Now if you have her seen, you never could forget her,
For she's very much like me ; now, Have you seen my sisterf
Her mouth is very small, her noce is straight and natty,
I tell you once for all, this girl is very pretty
Now I'll sing you another song, and it shall be a twister,
If you will go with mc, and help me find my sister.
19
The Sword of Bunker Hill.
Copied by permission of Russkll k Tolma.v, 291 "Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
He lay upon his dying bed,
His eye was growing dim,
When with a feeble voice he call'd,
His weeping son to him :
11 Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
"I bow to Heaven's high will,
But quickly from yon antlers bring, ) -p
The sword of Bunker hill." ] repeat.
The sword was brought, the soldier's eye
Lit with a sudden flame ;
And as he grasp'd the ancient blade,
He murmur'd Warren's name ;
Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,
But what is richer still,
I leave you, mark me, mark me, now, ) p
The sword of Bunker Hill. j *EPEA*
" Twas on that dread, immortal day,
I dared the Briton's band,
A captain raised this blade on me,
I tore it from his hand ;
And while the glorious battle raged,
It lighten'd freedom's will,
For, bov, the God of Freedom bless'd )
The sword of Bunker Hill. \ Repeat.
" Oh ! keep the sword," his accents broke,
A smile, and he was dead ;
But his wrinkled hand still grasp'd the blade,
Upon that dying bed.
The son remains, the sword remains,
Its glory growing still,
And twenty millions bless the sire ) t>
And sword of Bunker Hill. j KEPEAT-
20
Kate Kearney.
Oh ! did you ne 'er hear of Kate Kearney ?
She iive3 on the banks of Killarney :
From the glance of her eye, Bhun danger and fly,
For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.
For that eye is so modestly beaming,
You ne 'er think of mischief she's dreaming "
Yet, oh ! I can tell, how fatal's the spell,
That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney.
0 should you e'er meet this Kate Kearnevt
Who lives on the bank of Killarney,
Beware of her smile, for many a wile
Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney .
Though she looks so bewitchingly simple,
Yet there's mischief in every dimple ;
And who dares inhale her sigh's spicy gale,
Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney.
Answer to Kate Kearney.
Oh, yes, I have seen this Kate Kearney,
Who lives near the lake of Killarney ;
From her love-beaming eye, what mortal can fly,
Unsubdued by the glance of Kate Kearney ?
For that eye so seducingly meaning,
Assures me of mischief she's dreaming ;
Aad I feel 'tis in vain to fly from the chain
That binds me to lovely Kate Kearney.
it eve when Pre met this Kate Kearney,
On the flower-mantled banks of Killarney,
Her imile would impart thrilling joy to my heart,
As I gaz'd on the charming Kate Kearney.
On the banks of Killarney reclining,
My bosom to rapture resigning,
I've felt the keen smart of love's fatal dart,
And inhai'd the warm sigh of Kate Kearney.
31
Home Again.
Home again, home again,
From a foreign shore ;
And, oh, it fills my soul with joy, >
To meet my friends once more
Here I dropp'd the parting tear,
To cross the ocean's foam ;
But now I'm once again with those
Who kindly greet me home.
Home again, &c.
Happy hearts, happy hearts,
With mine have laugh'd in glee,
But, oh, the friends I loved in youth
Seem happier to me.
And if my guide should be the fata
Which bids me longer roam,
But death alone can break the tie
That binds my heart to home
Home again, &c.
Music sweet, music soft,
Lingers round the place ;
And, oh, I feel the childhood charm.
That time can not afface.
Then give me but my homestead root,
I'll ask no palace dome ;
For I can live a happy life
With those I love at home.
Home again, &c.
22
Gentle Jennie Gray,
My heart is sad, 1 11 tell you why,
If you'll listen to my lay,
Which makes me weep, when I sing
Of my gentle Jennie Gray;
But I never can forget the days,
When with Jennie by my side,
We talked of love and happiness,
When she should be my bride.
Chorus. — Hush the banjo, toll the bell,
I'm very sad to-day,
I can not work, so let me weep,
For my gentle Jennie Gray.
My Jennie had the sweetest face,
And eyes of sparkling jet,
With lips like new-born roses,
She was my darling pet ;
But Death he called one morning,
And took my love away,
And left me lonely weeping,
For my gentle Jennie Gray.
CJiorus. — Hush the banjo, &c.
And in the ground they laid her,
Close by my cabin door ;
A rude stone marks the spot,
Where she sleeps to wake no morw*
While at her grave I'm weeping,
At every close of day,
I fancy then, she's sleeping,
And not dead! my Jennie Gray
Chorus. — Hush the banjo, kc.
23
Faded Flowers.
ffopiea by permission ofRusAKLL & Tolmax, 291 Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
Tho flowers I saw in the wild wood,
Have since dropp'd their beautiful leaves,
And the many dear friends of my childhood,
Have slumberd for years in their graves ;
But the bloom of the flowers I remember,
Though their smiles I shall never more see,
For the cold, chilly winds of December
Stole my flowers, my companions, from me.
The roses may bloom on the morrow,
And many dear friends I have won,
But my heart can part with but sorrow,
When I think of the ones that are gone.
Tis no wonder that I am broken-heart'd
And stricken with sorrow should be,
For we have met, we have loved, we have part'd.
My flowers, my companions, and me.
How dark looks this world, and how dreary,
When we part from the ones that we love,
But there's rest for the faint and the weary,
And friends meet with lost ones above ;
But in heaven I can but remember,
When from earth my proud soul shall be free,
ITiat no chilly winds of Docember,
Shall steal my companions from me.
Hard Times.
listen awhile and give ear to my song
Concerning these hard times, 'twill not take you long,
How every one tries each other to bite,
And in cheating each other they think they do right.
Nothing but hard times.
There are some young men, which }*ou very well know,
To see pretty girls they are sure to go ;
The old. folks will giggle, they will laugh, and thev'll grin,
Crying, " Use him well, Sal, or he'll not come again."
The baker will cheat you in the bread that you eat,
And so will the butcher, in the weight of his meat ;
He'll tip up the steelyards, and male them go down,
And swears it is weight, when it lacks a half pound.
The next are the ladies, the sweet little dears,
At the balls and the parties, how nice they appear;
With whalebones and corsets themselves they will squcea*,
You have to unlace them before they can sneeze.
Next is the tinker, he'll mend all your ware,
For little or nothing, some ale or some beer ;
But before he begins, he'll get half drunk or more,
And in stopping one hole, why he'll punch twenty more.
The judge on his bench, so honest and true.
He'll stare at a man, as though he'd look him through ;
He'll send him a year or six months to the jail,
And for five dollars more, why he'll go your bail.
Then next is the doctor, he'll cure all your ills,
With his puffs and his powders, his syrups, and squills, *
He'll give you a dose that will make you grow fat,
Or some pills that will leave you but your boots and your hal
The ladies must all have their silks and their laces,
And things they call bonnets, to show off their faces ;
But their figure, however, can never be seen,
For they are hoop'd like a barrel, with French crinoline.
The last is the sheriff, who thinks himself wise,
He'll come to your house with a big pack of lies ;
He'll take all your property that he can sell,
And get drunk on the money, that's doing rigkt well,
In theie hard tixattL
25
Ben Bolt.
Copied by permission of Tkters <fc Soys, Fourth St., Cladfe'v'* O
owners of the Copyright.
Don't vou remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt ?
Sweet Alice, with hair so brown,
Who blush'd with delight if you gave her a smile,
And trembled with tear at your frown ?
In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In a corner obscure and lone,
They have fitted a slab of granite §o gray,
And Alice lies under the stone.
Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
That stood at the foot of the hill,
Together we've lain in the noonday shade,
And listen'd to Appleton's mill.
The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
The rafters have tumbled in,
And a quiet that crawls round the wall as you gas a,
Takes the place of the olden din.
Do you mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,
That stood in the pathless wood?
And the button-ball tree with its motley boughs,
That nigh by the door-step stood ?
The cabin to ruin has gone, JBen Bolt,
You would look for the tree in vain ;
And where once the lords of the forest stood,
Grows grass and the golden grain.
And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
And the master, so cruel and grim?
And the shady nook in the running brook,
Where the children went to swim ?
Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt —
The spring of the brook is dry ;
And of all the boys who were school-mates then
There are only you and I !
There's a change in the things I love, Ben Bolt?
They have changed from the old to the new;
But I feel in the core of my spirit the truth,
There never was a change in you.
Twelvemonths twenty have pasVd, Ben Bolt,
Since first we were friends, vet I hail
Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth,
lien Bolt of the salt-sea vale !
26
Poor Juney.
Copied by permission of Russell k Tolmax, 291 Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
Pearl River's side is far away, in Mississippi State,
Where our Old Cabin stands alone, with Juney at the gate;
I told her I was going away, but would not stay out late,
/Lnd so she thought I'd soon be home, and waited at the
gate.
CHORUS
The Cabin stands upon the stream in Mississippi State,
And I must quickly hurry home and take her from the gate.
Old Massa died, and I was sold away to Georgia's State,
They did not buy my sister Jane when they bought me bet
mate,
I could not tell her we must part, alas ! our cruel fate,
And so, with weeping eyes, she stands to meet me at the
gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c.
I can't forget her gloomy look, when I bid her good-night,
Nor how my body quaked and shook as slow I left her sight ;
But soon I'll gold and silver get, pray Heaven I'm not too late.
To buy my darling Juney free and take her from the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c.
Oh, Juney was a aimple child, with pretty shining curls,
And white folks loved her best of all, the young Mulatto girl,
'Twas wrong for me to leave her 'lone, in Mississippi State^
But money it shall break the chain that binds her to the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, <&c.
If you go away down South, to Mississippi State,
Don't fail to seek our Cabin there, with J uncy a\ the gate ;
Tell her to wait a little while, tell her in hope +.o wait,
For I am he shall make her free, and take her from the ?*te.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c»
27
The Little Blacksmith.
"We heard his hammer all day long
On the anvil ring, and ring,
But he always came when the sun went down,
To sit on the gate and sing ;
His little hands so hard and brown
Cross' d idly on his knee,
And straw-hat lopping over cheeks
As red as' they could be.
Chorus. — The hammer's stroke on the anvil, fUTd
His heart with a happy ring,
And that was why, when the sun went down,
He came to the gate to sing.
His blue and faded jacket, trimim'd
With signs of work, his feet
All bare and fair upon the grass,
He made a picture sweet.
For still his shoes, with iron shod,
On the smithy wall he hung,
As forth he came, when the sun went down,
And sat on the gate and sung.
Chorus. — The hammer's stroke on the anvil, fill'd, &c.
The whistling rustic tending cows,
"Would keep in pastures near,
And half the bnsy villagers
Lean from their doors to hear.
And from the time the robin came
And made the hedges bright,
Until the stubble yellow grew,
He never miss'd a night.
Ctorus.^ The hammer's stroke on the anvil, &c
28
Over the Mountain.
Orer the mountain ware,
See where they come ;
Storm cloud and wintry wind
Welcome them home ;
Yet where the sounding gale
Howls to the sea,
There their song peals along
Deep-toned and free.
Chorus — Pilgrims and wanderers,
ilither we come ;
Where the free dare to be,
This is our home.
England hath sunny dales,
Dearly they bloom ;
Scotia hath heather hills,
Sweet their perfume ;
Yet through the wilderness
Cheerful we stray,
Native land, native land,
Home far away !
G/wrus. — Pilgrims and wanderers, <fce*
Dim grew the forest path, -
Onward they trod;
Firm beat their noble hearts,
Trusting in God ;
Gray men and blooming maids,
High rose their song,
Hear it sweep clear and deep,
Ever along.
Chorus' — Pilgrims and wanderers, &Q.
Not theirs the glorv wreath
Torn by the blast ;
Heavenward their holy steps,
Heavenward they pass'd ;
Green be their mossy graves,
Ours be their fame.
While their song peals along
Ever the same.
Chorus.— Pilgrims and wanderers, <k<x
29
Row, Row.
Bow ! row ! homeward we steer,
Twilight falls o'er us,
Hark! hark! music is near,
Friends glide before us,
Song lightens our labor,
Sing as onward we go ,
Keep each with his neighbor
Time as we flow.
Chorus. — Row ! row ! homeward we g\
Twilight falls o'er us,
Row ! row ! sing as we flow,
Day flies before us.
Row ! row ! sing as we go,
Nature rejoices ;
Hark ! how the hills as we flow
Echo our voices ;
Still o'er the dark waters
Far away we must roam,
Ere Italy's daughters
Welcome us home.
Chorus.— Row ! row, &c
Row f row ? see in the west
Lights dimly burning,
Friends in yon harbor of rest
Wait our returiing ;
See now they burn clearer, —
Keep time with the oar;
Now, now we are nearer
That happy shore.
Chorus. — Row ! row, <5c
Home, home, daylight is o'er,
Friends stand before us ;
"Yet ere our boat touch the shore,
Once more the chorus.
Chorus. — Row ! row, Ac
30
The Miller of the Dee.
There dwelt a miller hale and bold
Beside the river Dee ;
He work'd and sang from morn till Dight,
No lark more blithe than he ;
And this, the burden of his song,
Forever used to be,
"I envy nobody, no, not I,
And nobody envies me."
11 Thou 'rt wrong my friend, " said old King Hal,
"Thou'rt wrong as wrong can be;
For could my heart be light as thine,
Fd gladly change with thee;
And tell me now what makes thoe sing
With voice so loud and free,
While I am sad, though I am King
Beside the river Dee.'"
The miller smiled, and djff'd his cap,
" I earn my bread," quoth he ■
M I love my wife, I love my friends,
I love my children three ;
1 owe no penny I can not pay,
I thank the river Dee,
That turns the mill, that grinds the corn
To feed my babes and me."
"Good friend,' said Hal, and eighV +><z tWW
il Farewell and happy be ;
But say no more, if thou'dst be true.
That nc one envies thee ;
Thy mealy cap h worth my crown,
Thy mill my kingdom's fee,
Such men as thou are England's boast,
Oh7 miller of the Dee."
31
All's for the Best.
All's for the best ! be sanguine and cheerful ;
Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise,
Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearmg,
Courage forever ! is happy and wise.
All's for the best ! if a man would but know it,
Providence wishes that all may be blest,
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Fact is not fancy, and all's for the best!
Chorus. — All's for the best ! All's for the best !
Fact is not fancy, and ail's for the best.
All's for the best i set this on your standard,
Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love,
Who to the shores of despair may have wander'd
A way-wearied swallow, or heart-stricken dove.
All's for the best ! be a man, but confiding,
Providence tenderly governs the rest,
And the frail bark of his creature is guiding
Wisely and warily, all's for the best!
Chorus. — All's for the best, &c,
All's for the est dispel idle terrors,
Meet all your fears and your foes in the van,
And in the midst of your dangers and errors,
Trust like a child, and strive like a man.
All's for the best ! unfailing, unbounded,
Providence wishes that all may be blest,
And both by wisdom and mercy surrounded,
Hope and be happy, then all's for the best !
Chorus.— All's for tl . > fur the beat !
Hope and be happy, then all's for the best.
33
Don't be Angry Mother.
Don't be angry mother, mother,
Let thy smiles be smiles of joy,
Don't be angry, mother, mother,
Don't be angry with thy boy.
Years have flown since we have travers'd
The dark and stormy sea ;
Whilst your boy quite broken-hearvd,
Ne'er has ceased to think of thee.
Don't be angry mother, mother,
Let the world say what it will,
Though I don't deserve thy favor,
Yet I fondly love thee still ;
We have lived and loved together,
And our hearts ne'er knew a paiC
But forgive me, mother, mother,
Oh, forgive thy boy again.
Pray, remember, mother, mother,
I've been kneeling at thy feet,
And I am dreaming of thee nightly.
While reclining in my sleep;
But forgive me, mother, mother,
It will ease thy heart of pain,
But forgive me, mother, mother,
Oh, forgive thy boy again.
38
I am not Angry.
I am not angry, dearest boy,
No cloud is on my brow,
Thou seest only smiles of joy,
I am not angry now.
A mother's heart has yearn' d for the^
A mother's tears have flown,
A mother's prayers been offer'd up
To the eternal throne :
And though thou hast been wayward, b«yt
Misguided by thy will,
A mother's love is thine, my boy
Thou art my darling still.
While thou wert on the rolling de«p,
Toss'd by the rugged sea,
My only comfort was to weep —
To weep and pray for thee.
Over thy follies I have shed,
Ah-! many a bitter tear,
And I have mourn'd for thee as dead
Through all the passing year ;
Yet I have pray'd that thou, my som,
Might'st catch my latest breath,
That thy dear hands, and thine alona,
Might close my eyes in death.
I do forgive thee now, my boy,
It frees my heart from pain,
My bosom throbs alone with joy
To see thy face again.
Though thou hast wander'd far from fi&o,
I'll yet forgive the past,
For I am happy, boy, to see
Thou hast return'd at last.
Yes, now this heart is fill'd with j^f
My sororws are all o'er,
F#r thou art here again, my boy,
And we shall part no moro.
Xo 1 2
34
My Home in Zentuck.
I long, how I long for my home in Kentuck,
With its fields where I labor'd, so green,
Where the possum and the coon, and the juicy wild duck.
And the 'baeco so prime, I have seen :
There I've fish'd from the banks of the Masella creek,
And oft, in the shades of the night,
Have I watch'd with my gun, nigh the old Salt Lick,
For the game as it come to my sight.
Chorus. — There is my old cabin home,
There are my sisters and brother,
There is my wife, joy of my life,
My child, and the grave of my mother.
That hut, my dear home, my log-cabin home,
With the bench that I stood at the door,
Where weary at night, from my work I would com©
And there rest, ere I stepp'd on its floor.
The calabash vine, that then clung to its walls,
Oh ! 'tis dear in my memory still to me,
And my master, who lives in his own handsome hsJJA,
Not so happy as then I could be.
Chorus. — There is my old cabin home, <fec.
But that cabin is far, far away from me now,
1 am far from the scenes that I love,
Far away from that wife who once heard me vow
That forever I faithful would prove —
My frienas are still there, and still there is my child,
And still there, all in life, I must crave —
Still there is that mound, with its flowers so wild,
That covers my old mother's grave,
Chorus. — There is my old cabin home, &c.
35
Do they miss me at Home
Do they miss me at home, do they miss me !
'Twould be an assurance most dear,
To know that this moment some loved one,
Were saying I wish he was here,
To feel that the group at the fireside
Were thinking of me as I roam,
Oh, yes, 'twould be joy beyond measure
To know that they miss'd me at home,
To know that they miss'd me at home.
When twilight approaches, the season
That ever is sacred to song,
Doe3 some one repeat my name over,
And sigh that I tarry so long?
And is there a chord in the music
That's miss'd when my voice is away,
And a chord in each heart that awaketh
Regret at my wearisome stay,
Regret at my wearisome stay.
Do tiiey sit me a chair near the table,
When evening's home pleasures are nigh,
"When the candles are lit in the parlor,
And the stars in the calm azure sky ?
And when the u good-nights" are repeated,
And all lay them down to their sleep,
Do they think of the absent, and waft me
A whisper' d " good-nightn while they weep,
A whisper'd " good-night" while they weepf
Do they miss me at home — do they miss me
At morning, at noon, or at night?
And lingers one gloomy shade round them
That only my presence can light ?
Are joys less invitingly welcome,
And pleasures less hale than before,
Because one is miss'd from the circle,
Because I am with them no more,
Because I am with them no more !
36
Unfurl the G-lorious Banner.
Unfurl the glorious banner, let it sway upon the breeze,
The emblem of our country's pride, on land, and on the seal
The emblem of our liberty, borne proudly in the wars,
The hope of every freeman, the gleaming stripes and stars.
CHORUS.
Then unfurl the glorious banner out upon the welcoming air,
Read the record of the olden time upon its radiance there ;
In the battle it shall lead us, and our banner ever be,
A beacon-light to glory, and a guide to victory
The glorious band of patriots who gave the flag its birth,
Have writ with steel in history, the record of its worth ;
From east to west, from sea to sea, from pole to tropic sun,
Will eyes grow bright, and hearts throb high at the name
of Washington.
Chorus. — Then unfurl the glorious banner, <kc.
Ah. ! proudly should we bear it, and guard this flag of ours,
Borne bravely in its infancy amidst the darker hours ;
Only the brave may bear it, a guardian it shall be
For those who well have won the right to boast of liberty.
Chorus. — Then unfurl the glorious banner, &c.
The meteor flag of seventy-six, loag may it wave in pride,
To tell the world how nobly the patriot fathers died :
When from the shadows of their night outburst the briU
liant sun,
It bathed in light the stripes and stars, and lo 1 the fiel*
was won.
Chorus.— Then unfurl the glorious banner, &c.
37
My own Native Land.
I've roved over mountain, I've cross'd over flood ;
I've traversed the wave-rolling sand ;
Though thb fields were as green, and the moon
shone as bright,
Yet it was not my own native land.
No, no, no, no, no, no. No, no, no, no, no, no,
Though the fields were as green, and the moon
shone as bright,
Yet it was not my own native land.
The right hand of friendship how oft I have grasp'd
And bright eyes have smiled and looked bland,
Yet happier far were the hours that I pass'd
In the West — in my own native land.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes,
Yet happier far were the hours that I pass'd
In the West — in my own native land.
Then hail, dear Columbia, the land that we love,
Where flourishes Liberty's tree ;
The birth place of Freedom, our own native home,
'Tis the land, 'tis the land of the free !
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes,
The birth-place of Freedom, our own native home,
'Tis the land, 'tis the Jard of the free!
4
38
Our Mary Ann.
Oh, fare you well, my own Mary Ann,
Fare you well for a while ;
The ship is ready, and the wind is fair,
And I am bound for the sea, Mary Ann*
Oh, didn't you see your turiile dove,
A sittin' on yonder pile,
Lamenting the loss of his own true lord J
And so am I for ray Mary Ann.
Oh, fare "you well, etc.
A lobster in a lobster pot,
A blue fish in a brook,
May suffer some, but you know not
What I do feel for my Mary Ann.
Oh, fare you well, etc.
The pride of all the produce ground,
The dinner kitchen-garden fruit,
1& pumpkins some, but can't compare,
The love I bear for my Mary Ann.
Oh, fare you well, etc.
Evening Star.
Beautiful star in heaven so bright,
Softly falls thy silver light,
As thou movest from earth afar,
Star of the evening, beautiful star.
Beautiful star, beautiful star,
Star of the evening,
Beautiful, beautiful star.
In fancy's eyes thou seemst to say :
" Follow me, come from earth away;
Upward thy spirit's pinions try,
To realms of love beyond the sky."
Beautiful star, etc.
Shine on, oh, star of love divine,
And may our souls around thee twins*
As thou movest from eaiith afar,
Star of the twilight, beautiful star.
Beautiful star, etc.
89
The Old Farm House.
Oh, the old farm house, down beside the valley stream,
Where in childhood so oft I have played,
Ere sorrow had clouded mv heart's early dream,
Or life's purest joys had decayed;
How well I remember the vine-covered roof,
And the rose-bushes Clustering niirh,
And the tall, stately poplar trees standing aloof,
Whose tops seemed to reach to the sky.
Oh, the old fa; m house, my childhood's happy home.
Oh, the old farm house, how I've sported round its heartb
With my sisters and brothers so dear;
How oft has it rung with our innocent mirth.
And hallowed our soft evening prayer ;
But the old farm house now is going to decay,
Its stones like dead friends lie apart ;
But its dear, cherished image shall ne'er fade away
From affection's domain in my heart.
Oh, the old farm house, my childhood's happy home
Shells of the Ocean.
One summer eve, with pensive thought,
I wandered on the sea-beat shore,
Where oft, in heedless infant sport,
I gathered shells in days before.
Where ott, etc.
The plashing waves, like music fell,
Responsive to my fancy wild,
A dream came o'er me like a spell,
I thought I was again a child.
A dream came, etc.
I stooped upon the pebbly strand,
To cull the toys that round me lay,
But as I took them in my hand,
I threw them one by
But as I took, etc,
"Oh, thus," I said, M in every stage,
By toys our fancy is beguiled,
We gather shells from youth to age,
And then we leave them like a child.*
We gather sheila, etc
40
The Old Play-Ground.
I'm sitting to-day in the old play-ground,
Where you and I have sat so oft together,
I'm thinking of the joys when you and I were ooji
In the merry days now gone, John, forever;
'Twas here we sat in the merry olden time,
And we dreamed of the wild world before us,
And our visions and hopes of the coming time
Were as bright as the sun that shone o'er us.
Chorus. — I'm sitting to-day in the old play-ground,
Where you and I have sat so oft together,
I'm thinking of the joys when you and I were oof*
In those merry days now gone, Joh*, fore^ur.
O'er the threshold, John, we passed forlorn,
To wander we knew not where,
The heaven we thought so bright was o'ershadowM by night,
And the pathway lay dark and drear;
But I am sitting to-day in the old play-ground,
Where you and I have sat so oft together,
And these memories wild have made me a child
As in the merry days now gone, John, forere*
I'm sitting to-day, etc.
Annie Laurie.
Maxwelton Braes are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew,
And it's there that Annie Laurie
Gie'd me her promise true ;
Gie'd me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot will be;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doune and dee.
Her brow is like the snaw-drift,
Her throat is like the swan,
Her face it is the fairest
That e'er the sun shone on;
That e'er the sun shone on,
And dark blue is her e'e ;
A»d for bonnie Annie Lauri©,
I'd lay me doune and dee.
41
Like dew on the gowan lying,
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet ;
And like the winds in summer sighing
Her voice is low and sweet ;
Her voice is low and sweet,
And she's a' the world to me;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doune and dee.
Bob Ridley.
Now white folks I'll sing yon a ditty,
I'se from home, but dat's no pity ;
Oh, to praise myself it am a sname,
But Robert Ridley is my name.
CHORUS.
Oh, Bob Ridley, ho ! oh, Bob Ridley, ho!
Oh, Bob Ridlev, oh, oh, oh !
ROBERT RIDLEY, HO 1
Oh, white folks I hab crossed de mountains,
How many miles I didn't count 'em ;
Oh, I's left de folks at de old plantation
An' come down here ibr my edecation.
Oh, Bob Ridley, ho, etc.
De first time dat I eber got a licking
'Twas down at de forks ob de cotton pickin* ;
Oh, it made me dance, it made me tremble,
I golly, it made my eyeballs jingle.
Oh, Bob Ridley, no, etc.
New York city am a mighty fine one,
For beauty and location it ain't behincj none;
Oh, de ladies all look so sweet and gidley,
Wonder dey don't fall in love wid old Bob Ridoj.
CHORUS.
Oh, Bob Ridley, ho 1 oh, Bob Ridley, ho)
Oh, Bob Ridlev, oh, oh, oh,
ROBERT RIDLEY, HO I
42
Song of the Sexton.
Oh, the sights that I see as I ply my lone trade,
In the moldering dust that a cent'ry hath made,
Where the coffin-worm doth creep.
I began long ago, when my life was still green,
And my mattock and spade have been active, I ween,
To fashion the grave so deep.
Ho! I laugh as I dig, for they all seek my aid,
To provide them a home with my mattock and spade*
The rich man hath pass'd me with towering head,
But I sang o'er his grave when the scorner was dead,
And laugh' d as I shovel'd the mold.
The hungry and wretched ne'er enter'd his door,
His heart never bled for the wrongs of the poor,
For the proud man well loved his gold.
Ho ! I laugh'd as I dug, for they wanted my aid,
To provide him a home with my mattock and spade.
I saw a young man in the fresh bloom of life,
As he came to the church with a trembling young wife*
Lift against me the finger of scorn.
Oh, the revel was joyous, the dance lasted long;
But the shriek of the widow soon banish'd the song —
The young man died ere the morn !
Ho ! I laugh'd as I dug, when they came for my aid,
To provide him a home with my mattock and spade.
f saw a fair child bend her beautiful head,
And cull the lone flowers that bloom o'er the dead,
To form a pure simple wreath.
The crimson of hectic suffused her pale face ;
In her eyes fearful lustre I trembled to trace,
The herald of early death.
But I pray that ere then, the deep home I hav© made.
May close over mc, and my mattock and spade,
43
Uncle Sam's Farm.
Copied by permission of Rcsskll k Tolmax, 201 Washington St.,
13o3ton, owners of the copyright.
Of all the mighty nations, in the East or in the West,
Oh ! this glorious Yankee nation is the greatest and the bcsv
We have room for all creation, and our banner is unfurl'd,
Here is a general invitation to the people of the world.
Cltorus. — Come along, come along — make no delay,
Come from every nation, come from every way ;
Our land is broad enough — don't be alarmed,
"For Uncle Sam is rch enough to give us all a farm.
Pt. Lawrence marks our northern line, as fast her waters flow,
And the Rio Grande our southern bound, way down to Mexico ;
From the great Atlantic ocean, where the sun begins to dawn,
Leaps across the Rocky Mountains, away to Oregon.
Chorus. — Come along, come along, &c.
The South may raise the cotton, and the West the corn and pork,
New England manufactories shall do up the finer work ;
For the deep and flowing waterfalls that course along»our hills,
Are just the thing for washing sheep and driving cotton mill*.
Chorus. — Come along, come along, <fcc.
Our fathers gave us liberty, but little did they dream,
The grand results that flow along this mighty age of steam;
For our mountains, lakes, and rivers are all a blaze of lire,
And we send our news by lightning on the telegraphic wire.
Cirrus. — Come along, come along, <fcc.
Yes, we are bound to beat the nations, for our motto's go-ahead,
And we'll tell the foreign paupers that our people are well-fed j
For the nations must remember that Uncle Sam is not a fool.
For the people do the voting, and the children go to school
Chorus. — Come along, oorae along, £c.
44
Wait for the Wagon.
Will you come with me, my Phillis, dear, to yon blue moun-
tain free,
Where the blossoms smell the sweetest, come rove along
with me.
It's every Sunday morning, when I am by your side,
We'll jump into the wagon, and all take a ride.
chorus. — Wait for the wagon,
Wait for the wagon,
Wait for the wagon,
And we'll ^11 take a ride.
Where the river runs like silver, and the birds they sing
so sweet,
I have a cabin, Phillis, and something good to eat.
Come listen to my story, it will relieve my heart,
So jump into the wagon, and off we will start.
Wait for the wagon, &c.
Bo you believe, my Phillis, dear, old Mike with all his wealth.
Can make you half so happy, as I with youth and health?
We'll haw a little farm, a horse, a pig, and cow,
And you will mind the dairy, while I do guide the plow.
Wait for the wagon, kc.
Your lips are red as poppies, your hair so slick and neat,
All braided up with dahlias, and hollyhocks so sweet,
It's every Sunday morning, when I am by your side,
We'll jump into the wagon, and all take a ride.
Wait for the wagon, &c.
Together on life's journey, we'll travel till we stop,
And if we have no trouble, we'll reach the happy top.
Then come with me, sweet Phillis, my dear, my lovely bride^
We'll jump into the wagon, and all take a ride.
Wait for the wagon, &e.
45
A National Song\
_ ^— ♦-» —
God of the Free ! to thee we look,
As look'd our sires in days of old,
When on thy breath invoked by prayer.
Their banner for the Right unroll'd.
That glorious banner still is ours ;
Our falchions like their own shall start.
When Freedom's sent'nel-trumpet calls,
To find the impious tyrant's heart.
Their sacred homesteads still we own,
And still the wave of Plymouth rolls
The hymn of Justice, Labor, Right,
And blest Religion in our souls.
Their mighty mission was not left
By them in vain for us, for we,
Heirs of a continent, are yet
Subduing mountain, vale, and sea.
How proudly on our march we go,
With Washington's own flag unfurl'd ;
The blood of all the world is here,
And he who strikes us, strikes the world I
Then wave thine oaken bough, 0 North '
O South ! exulting lift thy palms ;
And in our Union's heritage
Together sing the Nation's psalms.
46
Belle Brandon.
'Neath a tree by the margin of a woodland,
"Whose spreading leafy boughs sweep the ground,
With a path leading thither o'er the prairie,
Where silence hung her night garb around ;
Where oft I have wandered in the evening,
When the summer winds were fragrant on the lea,
There I saw the little beauty Belle Brandon,
And we met 'neath the old arbor tree.
REPEAT.
There I saw the little beauty, Belle Brandon,
A.nd we met 'neath the old arbor-tree.
Belle Brandon was a birdling of the mountain,
In freedom she sported on the lea,
And they said the life current of the red man
Tinged her veins, from a far distant sea.
And she loved her humble dwelling on the prairie,
And her guileless happy heart clung to me,
And I loved the little beauty, Belle Brandon,
And we both loved the old arbor tree.
Repeat. — And I loved the little beauty, &c.
On the trunk of an aged tree I carved them,
And our names on the sturdy oak remain,
But I now repair in sorrow to its shelter,
And murmur to the wild winds my pain.
Lnd I sat there in solitude repining,
For the beauty dream night brought to me,
Death has wed the little beauty, Belle Brandon,
And she sleeps 'neath the old arbor-tree.
Repeat. — Death has wed the little beauty, &e.
47
The Dying Californian.
Lay up nearer, brother, nearer, for my limbs are growing cold,
And thy presence seemetk dearer when thy arms around me fold
I am dying, brother, dying, soon you'll miss me in your berth,
And my form will soon be lying 'neath the ocean's briny surf.
Hearken to me, brother, hearken, I have something I would say,
Ere this vail my vision darken, and I go from hence away ;
I am going, surely going, but my hopes in God are strong,
1 am willing, brother, knowing that He doeth nothing wrong.
Tell my father when you greet him, that in death I prayM for him,
Pray'd that I might one day meet him, in a world that's free fronibim
Tell my mother, God assist her, now that she is growing old,
Tell, her son would glad hare kiss'd her, when his lips grew pale and
cold.
Hearken to me— catch each whisper, 'tis my wife I speak of now.
Tell, oh, tell her, how I missM her, when the fever burnt my brow :
Hearken to me, closely listen, don't forget a single word,
That in death my eyes did glisten when the tears her memory stirred.
Tell her then to kiss my children, like the kiss 1 last impress'd,
Hold them fast as last I held them, fold'd closely to my breast ;
Give them early to their Maker, putting all their trust in God,
And He will never forsake her — He has said so in His word.
0 my childern, Heaven bless them ! they were all my life to me ;
Would I could once more caress them, ere I sink beneath the sea ;
Twas for them I cross'd the ocean — what my hopes were I'll not tell*
But they have gain'd an orphan's portion — yet He doeth all things well
Tell my sisters I remember every kindly parting word,
And my heart hits been kept tender by the thoughts their memory
stirrM ;
Tell them 1 never reachM the haven where I sought the precious dust,
But I've gain'd a pert call'd heaven, where the gold doth nevtr rust.
Crge them to secure an entrance, for they will find their brother there,
Faith in Jesus and repentance will secure for them a share ;
Hark ! I hear my Saviour calling — 'tis I hnow his voico so well.
When I'm gone, oh, don't be weeping, brother, hear my last farewell I
48
I want to go Home.
■^♦■^<<.^»>-. ■»■
I want to go home,
For never a place did I see,
Wherever I roam, far away and alone,
So dear as my own Tennessee.
But now I am far away,
To my home I must go soon,
I want to go back to hunt for the deer track,,
And watch for the possum and coon,
CHORUS.
I want to go home,
For never a place did I see,
Wherever I roam far away and alone.
So dear as my own Tennessee.
L want to go where
The sugar cane's growing so green,
For many a day have I wandered away,
To watch the old mill by the stream,
And when the night had come,
And the darkey's work was done,
We've gathered around, for a dance on the green
By the sound of the old Tamborine.
But now I am far away,
And lonely and sad is my lot,
[ never can rest till my journey is past,
And I again seek my old cot.
From my childhood's happy home,
I never more will roam,
i will take by my side, my young Tennessee brid«
And live ever happy at home
40
Bold Privateer.
^ ■ • ■ ^
It's oh ! my dearest Polly, you and I must part,
1 am going across the seas, love, I give to you
my heart,
My ship she lies in waiting, so fare thee well, my
dear,
I am just a going on board of the Bold Privateer.
But on, my dearest Johnny, great dangers have
been cross'd,
And many a sweet life by the seas nas been
lost ;
You had better stop at home with the girl that
loves you dear,
Than to venture your life on the Bold Privateer,
When the wars are over, may neaven spare my
life,
Then soon I will come back to my sweet, loving
wife.
Then soon I will get married to charming Polly
. dear,
And forever bid adieu to the Bold Privateer
Oh ! my dearest Polly, your friends do me dislike,
Besides you have two brothers who'd quickly
take my life.
Come, change your ring with me, my dear, come
change your ring with me,
(Vnd that shall be our token when I am on the
sea.
59
Heather Dale.
la a peaceful little valley,
Where the violets grow.
There I used to wander daily,
Watching at the brooklet's flow ;
Not a spot I loved so dearly
As this fragrant vale,
And I never shall forget it,
Lovely little Heather Dale !
Chorus. — Oh, how I always loved to,
With my sister Nell,
Roam in days of youthful pleasurf
In that little Heather Dale.
There IVe heard the little songsters
Sing their sougs of glee,
Skipping from the waving tree-tops,
'Twas a lovely sight to me ;
Fragrance from the little flowers
Pill'd each gentle gale,
As they in their course came playing
Through the little Heather Dale.
Chorus. — Oh, how I always loved to, ko%
Now those childhood's days have fleeted
And no more I'll roam,
In that quiet little valley
Near my old sequester' d home;
But I always shall remember
Where I used to trail,
Through that lone and silent valley,
My own little Heather Dale.
Chorus. — Oh, how I always loved to kc
51
The Marseilles Hymn.
Te sons of Freedom, awake to glory I
Hark ! hark ! what myriads bid you rise ?
Your children, wives, and graudsfres hoary,
Behold their tears and hear their cries.
Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding,
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band,
Affright and desolate the land,
While peace and liberty lie bleeding ?
To arms ! to arms ! ye brave !
The avenging sword unsheath :
March on ! march on ! all hearts resolved
On victory or death.
Now, now, the dangerous storm is rolling,
Which treacherous kings confederate rais«;
The dofjs of war, let loose, are howling,
And lo ! our fields and cities blaze ;
And shall we basely view the ruin,
While lawless force, with guilty stride,
Spreads desolation far and wide,
With crimes and blood his hands embruing?
To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, <tc.
With luxury and pride surrounded,
The vile, insatiate despots dare,
(Their thirst of power and gold unbounded).
To mete and vend the light and air.
Like beasts of burden would they load us,
Like gods would bid their slaves adore
But man is man, and who is more ?
Then shall they longer lash and goad us?
To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, &c.
0 Liberty ! can man resign thee,
One* having felt thy generous flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee?
Or whips thy noble spirit tame ?
T*o long the world has wept, bewailing
That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield.
But freedom i^ our sword and shield,
And all their arts are nn availing.
To arms ! to arms I ye brave, &c.
52
Twinkling Stars.
— m+ «-« i «a» » »~» ■ w
Twinkling stars are laughing, love,
Laughing on you and me,
While your bright eyes look in mine,
Peeping stars they seem to to be ;
Troubles come and go, love,
Brightest scenes must leave our sight,
But the star of hope, love,
Shines with radiant beams to-night.
CHORUS.
Twinkling stars are laughing, love,
Laughing on you and me,
While your bright eyes look in mine,
Peeping stars they seem to be.
Golden beams are shining, love,
Shining on you to bless,
Like the queen of night, you fill
Darkest space with loveliness.
Silver stars how bright, love,
Mother moon in thronely might,
Saze on us to bless, love,
Purest vows here made to-night.
Choxvs. — Twinkling stars, &c.
53
Old Dog Tray.
•-ipiedby permission of Firth, Poxd <& Co., 547 Broadvray, owners
of the copyright.
The morn of life is past, and evening comes at last>
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Of many forms I've seen, upon the Tillage green,
Sporting with my old Dog Tray.
Chorus.
Old Dog Tray's ever faithful,
Grief can not drive him away
He's gentle, he 13 kind, I'll never, never find,
A better friend than old Dog Tray,
Tr,e forms I call'd my own, have vanish'd one by one,
The loved ones, the dear ones, have all pass'd away ;
Tbeir happy smiles have flown, their gentle voices gone,
I have nothing left but old Dog Tray.
Old Dog Tray's ever faithful,
Grief can never drive him away,
He's gentle, he is kind ; 1*11 never, never find,
A better friend than old Dog Tray.
When thoughts recall the past, his eyes are on me cast^
I know that he feels what my breaking heart would say.
Although he can not speak, I'll vainly, vainly seek,
A better friend* than old Dog Tray.
Old Dog Tray's ever faithful,
Grief can not drive him away,
He's gentle, he is kind; I'll never, never find.
A better friend than old Dog Tray.
54
Red, White, and Blue.
Oh Columbia, the gem of the ocean,
The home of the brave and the free,
The shrine of each patriot's devotion,
A world offers homage to thee.
Thy mandates make heroes assemble,
When liberty's form stands in view,
Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
Wken borne by the red, white, and blue.
When borne by the red, white, and blue,
When borne by the red, white, and blue,
Thy banners make tyranny tremble,
When borne by the red, white, and blue.
When war waged its wide desolation,
And threaten'd our land to deform,
The ark then of freedom's foundation,
Columbia rode safe through the storm.
With her garland of victory o'er her,
When so proudly she bore her bold cre*r,
With her flag proudly floating before her,
The boast of the red, white, and blue.
The boast of, &c.
The wine cup, the wine cup bring hither,
And fill you it up to the brim,
May the wreath they have won never wither,
Nor the. star of their glory grow dim,
May the service united ne'er seves,
And hold to their colors so true,
The army and navy forever,
Three cheers for the red, white, and blue.
Three cheers for, &c.
The Rock of Liberty.
Copied by permission of Rcssbll &Tolmax, 291 Washington Stt
Boston, owners of the copyright.
Oh ! the firm old rock, the wave-worn rock,
That braved the blast and the billow's shock ;
It was born with time on a barren shore,
And it laugh'd with scorn at the ocean's roar.
'Twas here that first the Pilgrim band,
Came weary up to the foaming strand ;
And the tree they rear'd in the days gone by,
It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne'er shall die.
Thou stern old rock in the ages past,
Thy brow was bleach'd by the warring blast ;
But thy wintry toil with the wave is o'er,
And the billows beat thy base no more.
Yet countless as thy sands, old rock,
Are the hardy sons of the Pilgrim stock ;
And the tree they rear'd in the days gone byf
It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne'er shall die.
Then rest, old rock, on the sea-beat shore,
Our sires are lull'd by the breaker's roar ;
'Twas here that first their hymns were heard'
O'er the startled cry of the ocean bird.
Twas here they lived, 'twas here they died,
Their forms repose on the green hill-side ;
And the tree they rear'd in the days gone bjf
It lives, it lives, it lives, and ne'er shall die.
56
The Age of Progress.
The age of giant progress,
Americans all hail !
The land, all interwoven
With telegraph and rail ;
No sluggish chains shall bind us,
No tardiness delay ;
The morning light is breaking (waking),
O'er our destiny.
The age of trained lightning.
" Dispatching" human thought ;
What wondrous revolution
The scheme of Morse hath wrought !
No time, no space can hinder
The quick, electric fire ;
Intelligence is flashing (dashing)?
O'er the magic wire.
The age of grand conceptions,
The "cable of the deep!"
It "snapp'd," but we will mend it,
We have no time to weep.
The great Pacific Railroad!
'Twill not be long before
The railroad cars are flying (hieing).
From the golden shore.
The age of priceless knowledge,
The scholar's jubilee !
The land all dotted over
With institutions free.
Our public schools ! Oh, hail them !
They offer treasures cheap :
The boys and girls are scaling (hailing)^
Science's rugged steep.
57
Glad to Get Home.
Copied by permlflfion of Rcssell & Tolmak, 291 Washington St,,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
Oh, how glad to get home,
For far IVe wander'd,
Joyful, joyful I come,
Dear home, to thee !
Fond ones welcome me here,
Loved ones are near me ;
Voices float on my ear,
Sweet, sweet to me.
CHORUS.
Dear friends that are round me, haste with looks delighted,
Days long vanish'd and gone, come to my heart.
Dear home of my childhood, once again united,
Never, never again from thee I'll part.
Father, in the warm grasp
I feel thy welcome,
Oh, from love's tender clasp
Ne'er let me fly ;
Mother, fondly again
Thou dost enfold me ;
Tears I can not restrain
Burst from mine eye
Chorus. — Dear friends that are round me, ke.
Brother, still is thy brow
Noble as ever,
As I look on thee now,
How swells my heart !
Sister, .gentle and kind,
Close to me clinging ;
Now in love we are twined
No more to part.
CKoru*. — Dear friends that are round me. kc.
.58
Blind Orphan Boy's
Lament.
"They tell me that my mother's sleeping
In the church-yard far away,
That she knows not I am weeping —
Weeping all the live long day.
u They tell me that my father's lying
In the dark grave by her side ;
That I'm left on life's rough billow
With no earthly friend or guide.
" When the wTild woods echo loudly,
And the merry songsters sing,
When the winds are hurrying pas« me
With sweet music on their wings,
'Methinks I hear my mother calling,
And her grave I long to find ;
But there's no one here to lead me,
For the orphan boy is blind."
He now sleeps within that church-yard
Where he ofttimes long'd to be ;
Angels bore his soul to heaven,
Now the poor blind boy can see.
59
The Lake-Side Shore
Summer's breath is lightly falling
On the silent waters blue,
JLnd the moonbeams bright are sporting
With the drops of glittering dew ;
Hark ! away upon the waters
There's a sound of dipping oar,
And a boat-song loudly chanted,
Echoes down the lake-side shore.
Vow the night-bird's song comes floating
Sweetly down the midnight air,
Waking all the depths, to listen
To the birds that thus should dare
To break the weird and solemn stillnea^
That had reign'd so long before,
In the wood, and mead, and valley,
On the silent lake-side shore.
Now the song comes swelling bolder,
And the boatman's chant is heard,
Louder o'er the distant waters,
As it would outvie the bird ;
But each song at last is finish'd,
And the bird to rest once more,
Leaves no sound to break the quiet
Of the happy lake-side shore.
Who can say there is no pleasure
Thus to walk the night aloDe,
Listening to the night-bird's music,
Or the boatman's solemn tone ?
Where is there a spot more lovely,
Where the vail of night hangs o'er?
Where another place more lovely
Than this silent lake-aide shore ?
00
The Tempest.
We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep,
It was midnight on the waters,
And the storm was o'er the deep
*Tis a fearful thing in winter
To be shatter'd by the blast,
And to hear the trumpet thunder,
" Cut away the mast !"
We shudder' d there in silence,
For the stoutest held his breath,
While the hungry sea was roaring,
And the breakers talked with death;
Sad thus we sat in silence,
All busy with our prayers,
" We 're lost!" the captain shouted,
But his little daughter whisper' d.
As she took the icy hand,
11 Is not God upon the waters,
Just the same as on the land ?"
Then we kiss'd the little maiden,'
And we spake of better cheer,
As we anchor' d safe in harbor,
Where the sun was shining clear.
Chorus. — And a shout rose loud and joyous,
As we grasp'd the friendly hand,
God is on the waters,
Just the same as on the land
61
E Piuribus Unum.
Copied by permission of Peters & Soxs, Fourth St. Cincinnati. D„
owners of the Copyright.
Though many and bright are the stars that appear
In tho flag of our country unfurl'd ;
Al. khe stripes that are swelling in majesty there,
Like a rainbow adorning the world ;
Their lights are unsullied as those in the sir*,
By a deed that our fathers have done,
And they're leagued in as true and as holy a t %
In their xnotto of ** Many in one."
From the hour when those patriots fearlessly flung
That banner of star-light abroad,
Ever true to themselves, to that motto they clung
As they clung to the promise of God ;
By the bayonet traced at the midnight of war,
On the holds where our glory was won,
Oh ! perish the hand, or the heart that would mar
Our motto of "Many in one."
'Mid the smoke of the contest, the cannon's deep roar.
How oft it hath gather'd renown ;
"While those stars were reflected in rivers of gore,
When the cross and the lion went down.
And though few were their lights in the gloom of that hour.
Yet the hearts that were striking below,
Had God for their bulwark, and truth for their power,
And they stopp'd not to number the foe.
We are many in cne where there glitters a star
In the blue of the heavens above,
And tyrants shall quail 'mid their dungeons afar,
When they gaze on our motto of love.
It shall gleam o'er the sea 'mid the bolts of the storm,
O'er the tempest, and battle, and wreck,
And llame where our guns with their thunder grow warm,
'Neath the blood on the slippery deck.
Then up with our flag, let it stream on the air,
Though our fathers arc cold in their graves ;
They had hands that could strike, they had souls that could dar^
And their sons were not born to be slaves.
Up, up with our banner where'er it may call,
Our millions shall rally around,
A nation of freemen that moment shall fall,
When itrj stars shall be trail'd ou the ground.
62
A Good Time Coming.
~_ ♦_
There is a good time coming, boy^
A good time coming ;
There's a good time coming, boys,
Wait a little longer ;
We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming ;
Cannon-balls may aid the truth,
But thought's a weapon stronger;
We'll win our battles by its aid,
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming,
There's a good time coining, boy3.
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming ;
There's a good time coming, boys,
Wait a little longer ;
The pen shall supersede the sword,
And right, not might, shall be the lord,
In the good time comidg ;
Worth, not birth, shall rule mankind,
And be acknowledged stronger,
The proper impulse has been given.
Wait a little longer.
There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming,
There's a good time coining, boys,
Wait a little longer.
63
The Hills of New England.
The hills of New England, how proudly they rise,
In their wildness of grandeur to blend with the skies,
"With their far azure outline, and tall, ancient trees,
Xew England, my country, I love thee for these.
The vales of New England, that cradle her streams,
And smile in their beauty like land in our dreams ;
All sunny with beauty, embosom' d in ease.
>Tew England, my country, I love thee for these.
The woods of Xew England, still verdant and high,
Though rock'd by the tempest of ages gone by ;
Romance dims their arches, and speaks in the breeze,
Xew England, my country, I love thee for these.
The streams of Xew England, that roar as they go,
Or seem in their wildness but dreaming to flow;
Oh I bright gilds the sunbeam their march to the seas,
Xew England, my country, I love thee for these.
The homes of Xew England, free, fortuned, and fair ;
Oh, many a heart treasures its seraphim there,
E'en more than thy mountains or streamlets they please
Xew England, my country, I love thee for these.
God shield thee, Xew England, dear land of my birth,
And thy children that wander afar on the earth ;
Thou still art my country, where'er I am cast, — •
Take thou to thy bosom my ashes at last.
64
Tbe Old Folks we Loved
Long Ago.
**• — « i — n i^
Battling with life,
'Mid care and strife,
The daily toils in hope I undergo ;
Yet mem'ry will wander,
Fonder oh, fonder,
To the dear old folks I loved long ago,
Long years have gone
Since in the morn
Of life I heard the river's gentle flow «,
And oft mem'ry lingers,
As point time's fingers,
To the dear old folks I loved long ago.
Dell, hill, and tree,
Flower, bird, and bee,
Ail as of yore, make music sweet and lowv
And, though on earth riven,
I hope to meet in heaven
The dear old folks I loved long ago.
Then up, my soul,
Strive for the goal,
Oh, linger not to weep and wail in woe ;
For far in yon azure blue
Methinks I yet may know
The dear old folks I loved long ago.
THE
Song Book
3STo. a.
▲ COLLECTION OF NEW AND POrULAR
COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
hTJSW YORK: 118 WILLIAM ST,
LONDON : 44 PATERNOSTEK ROW.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 185D,
By IRWIN P. BEADLE,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
ft. B. No. 8
CONTENTS No. Q.
PAGK.
Alice Gray, 9
America, - - 52
Banks of the old Mohawk, 10
Be kind to each other, 61
Billy Grimes, the rover, 46
Bryan O'Lynn, 27
Obuie, sit thee down, 57
Cora Lee, --50
Crazy Jane, 29
DarKng Nelly Moore, 16
Barling old stick, 34
Good news from home, 38
Good-night, 48
Graves of a household, 54
Home, sweet home, ------ 49
1 have n<> mother, now, . .... 59
I miss thee so, 48
I'm leafing thee in sorrow, Annie, - 6
I shouldn't' like to tell, 63
I wandered by the brook-side, 23
Kathleen, mavourneen, 26
K.tly, darling, 47
LitUe Katv; or, hot corn 24
Mabel Clare, 64
Mary Aileon, 60
Mary of the wild moor, 28
MiilMay, 5
Minnie, dear, 41
Minnie Moore, ---.---13
Mr. Finagan, 30
My eye and Betty Martin, - 37
My grandmother's advice, - 15
My love, he is a sailleur boy, 44
My mother dear, 23
iV CONTENTS NO. 2.
PAGE.
My mother's Bible, 55
Nancy Bell ; or, old pine tree, 17
New England, 11
Oh, I'm going home, 42
Oh, scorn not thy brother, 62
Oh, the sea, the sea, 43
Old sideling hill, 9
Our boyhood days, 18
Our father-land, 50
Peter Grav, 45
Rory O'More, 36
Somebody's waiting for somebody, 14
The fanner sat in his easy chair, 8
The fanner's boy, 5G
The fireman's victory, 21
The grave of Lilly Dale, 25
The Irishman's shanty, 33
The old folks are gone, 39
The post-boy's song, ------ 12
The quilting party, 20
Thr>.e bells, 53
'Tis home where the heart is, - - - 61
Waiting for the May, 49
We stand here united, 11
What is home without a mother ? - - - - 40
What other name than thine, mother? - - 58
Widow Machree, 32
Willie's on the dark-blue sea, - 7
Winter — sleigh-bell song, ..... 51
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK
ISTo. 2.
Mill May.
The strawberries grow in the mowing, Mill May,
And the bob-o'-link sings on the tree ;
On the knolls the red clover is growing, Mill May,
Then come to the meadow with me I
We'll pick the ripe clusters among the deep grass,
On the knolls in the mowing, Mill May,
And the long afternoon together we'll pass,
Where the clover is growing, Mill May.
Come ! come, ere the season is over, Mill May,
To tlLe fields where the strawberries grow,
While the thick-growing stems and the clover, Mill May,
Shall meet us wherever we go ;
We'll pick the ripe clusters among the deep grass,
On the knoll in the mowing, Mill May,
And the long afternoon together we'll pass,
Where the clover is growing, Mill May.
The sun, stealing under your bonnet, Mill May,
.'. kiss a soil: glow to your face,
And your lip the strawberry leave on it, Mill May,
A tint that the sea-shell would grace ;
Then come ! the ripe clusters among the deep grass,
We'll pick in the mowing, Mill 2
And the long afternoon together we'll pass,
Where the clover is growing, Mill May.
I'm Leaving Thee in Sor-
row. Annie.
I'm leaving thee in sorrow, Annie,
Tm leaving thee in tears ;
It may be for a long time, Annie,
Perhaps for many years,
But 'tis more kind to part now, dearest,
Than linger here in pain,
To weep o'er joys that once were shining,
But ne'er may shine again.
CHORUS.
I'm leaving thee, but weep not, Annie,
I'll come back yet to thee,
And bring some hope and comfoH, Anns*
To one so dear to me.
I'm thinking on the past, dear Annie,
Thy locks were bright as gold,
Thy smile was soft, but now, dear Annie,
Our hearts seem growing old,
Yet 'tis not time has stole the blossoms,
From off thy cheek so fair,
*Twas winter come too soon upon us,
And chilled the flowerets there,
I'm leaving thee, but weep not, Annk^
Fm leaving thee, but weep not, Annie,
For when I've passed yon sea,
1 11 gather hope and comfort, Annie,
And bring them back to thee.
Tm leaving thee in sorrow, Annie,
I'm leaving thee in tears,
It may be for a long time, Annie,
Perhaps for many years.
Tva leaving thee, but weep not, Annie,
Willie's on the Dark Blue
Sea.
My Willie's cm the dark blue sea,
He's goue far o'er the main,
And many a weary day will pass,
Bre hc'U come back aga;u.
CHORUS.
Then blow gentle winds o'er the dark blue 16*,
Bid the storm-king stay his hand,
And bring my Willie back to me,
To his own dear native land.
I love my Willie best of all,
He e'er was true to me ;
But lonesome, dreary, are the hours,
Since he went to sea.
There's danger on the water now,
I hear the blond hills cry ;
And moaning voices seem to speak
From out the cloudy sky.
I see vivid lightning? flush,
And hark! the thunders roar;
Oh Father, save my Willie from
The storm-king's mighty power.
And as she spoke the lightning ceased,
Hushed was the thunder's roar ;
And Willie clasped her in his arms ;
To roam the seas no more.
CHORUS.
Now blow gentle winds o'er the dark blue sea
No more we'll stay thy hand ;
Since Willie's safe at home with me,
lu his own dear native land.
The Farmer sat in his Easy
Chair.
The farmer sat in his easy chair,
Smoking his pipe of clay,
While his hale old wife with busy care,
Was clearing the dinner away;
A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes,
On her grandfather's knee was catching fliea
The old man laid his hand on her head,
With a tear on his wrinkled face;
lie thought how often her mother, dead,
Had sat in the self-same place:
As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye —
'Don't smoke," said ihe child; "how it makes ycu cryt*
The house-dog lay sti^tch'd out on the floor,
Where the shade after noon used to steal
The busy old wife by the open door,
Was turning the spinning-wheel;
And the old brass clock on the mantchree,
Had plodded along to almost three :
Still the farmer sat in his easy chair,
While close to his heaving breast,
The moisten'd brow and the cheek so fail,
Of his sweet grandchild were pressM ;
Ris head, bent down, on her soft hair la^
Fast asleep were they both, that summer day.
Oltl Sideling Hill.
I Have wandered through many a valley,
And traveled o'er mountain and plain;
But there is nothing my spirit eaiTrally,
Like the birth of my own hills again.
I feel like a child, when I'm straying
By the side of each mountain rill ;
I think of the time I was playing
Near the foot of old Sideling Hill,
Here the sun seems to shine more brightly,
As it rises o'er the tall mountain top,
Like it shone when life set so plainly,
When my bosom was throbbing with hope,
I wish I had a cot near that fountain,
"Where the purest of water doth still ;
I would meet a warm friend on the mountain,
That would stop at old Sideling Will.
There the people are frank and kind-hearted,
With manners both simple and plain ; ,
Often I think of the time we all parted, ;
Ne'er to meet in this wide world again,
Though most of ray old friends have squandered,
There are some who are living there still :
And they'll welcome the one who has wandered,
When he comes to old Sideling Hill.
Alice GriTvy.
She's all my fancy painted her,
She's lovely, she's divine ;
But her heart it is another's,
She never can be mine.
Yet loved I as in an ne'er loved,
A love without decay ;—
Oh ! my heart— my heart is breaking
For the love of Alice Gray.
Her dark brown hair Is braided o'er
A brow of spotless white ;
Her soft blue eye now languishes—
Now flashes will: 'Ulight;
10
The hair is braided not for me,
The eye is turned away ;
Yet my heart— my heart is breaking
For the love of Alice Gray.
I've sunk beneath the summer's sun,
And trembled in the blast; |
But my pilgrimage is nearly done,
The heavy conflict's past.
And when the green sod wraps my grave,
May pity haply say,
- Oh ! his heart— his heart was broken
For the love of Alice Gray,"
Banks of* the Old. Mohawk.
Copied by permission of J. H. Hidley, Music Publisher,
519 Broadway, Albany, N. Y., owner of copyright.
On the banks of the Old Mohawk,
I have seen for many an hour,
A lovely child in snnny years,
While plucking the dewy flowers,
Youth sat upon her forehead bright
Bewitching as a lark,
Like a fairy bright she trip'd along,
On the banks of the Old Mohawk.
Ah ! methinks I see her now,
With those eyes of fairest blue,
They told a tale of innocence,
With heart so pure and true ;
The witching cadence of her voice
With melody was fraught,
Its music sweet ran through my soul,
Ob the banks of the Old Mohawk.
But alas ! there came an evil hour,
And our hearts are lonely now,
Her eyes grew dim, and the dews of death,
Soon gathered on her brow.
They decked her form with roses fair,
And robed in spotless white,
She sleeps alon^ 'neatb the flowers she loved,'
On the banks of the Old Mohawk.
11
New England.
New England, I love thee, thou land of the free!
Oar sires from oppression found refuge in thee;
Thy laws are commended beyond the wide seas,
New England, my country, I love thee for these.
New England, I love thee, thou land of the brave,
Our fathers fought nobly thy freedom to save ;
Thy rights ever sacred, all nations must please,
New England, my country, I love thee for these.
New England, I love thee, thy code of good rules.
Thy clergy, thy churches, thy teachers and schools,
Thy statesmen and poets, thy minstrels and glees,
New England, my country, I love thee for these.
New England, I love thee, thy rocks and thy rilis.
Thy dells and thy fountains, thy vales and thy hills,
Thy rivers and meadows, thy mountains and trees,
New England, my country, I love thee for these.
New England, I love thee, repose of the blest,
The oppress'd of all nations in thee find their rest;
Thy banners of freedom float high in the breeze,
New England, my country, I love thee for these.
We Stand Here United.
We stand here united in courage and will,
The cause of the right to maintain; '
With hearts true and constant, whatever may come.
We firm as the rocks will remain.
Chorus.— For the right, for the right,
Here determined we stand,
So pledge we the word,
So join we the hand,
So pledge we the word,
So join we the hand.
Nor fearing nor doubting shall enter the band.
No questions of evil report;
The nations, and people of every land,
To us be united in heart.
Chorus.— For the right, etc.
Tten stand here united in courage and will,
The cause of the right to mainfain ;
Wit h hearts true and constant, whatever may come,
We firm as the rocks will remain.
Chorus.— Frr the right, etc.
12
The Post-Boy's Song.
The nlj?ht is dark, and the way is long,
And the clouds are flying fast ;
The night-wind sings a dreary song,
And the trees creak in the blast :
The moon is down in the tossing sea,
And the stars shed not a ray ;
The lightning flashes fearfully,
But I must on my way.
Full many a hundred time have I
Gone o'er it in the dark ;
Till my faithful steeds can well descry
Each long familiar mark :
Withal, should peril come to-night,
God have us in his care !
For without help, and without light,
The boldest well beware.
Now on, my steeds ! the lightning's flash
An instant gilds our way ;
But steady ! by that dreadful crash
The heavens seemed rent away.
Soho ! here comes the blast anew,
And a pelting flood of rain ;
Steady ! a sea seems bursting through
A rift in some upper main.
'Tis a terrible night, a dreary hour,
But who will remember to pray
That the care of the storm-controlling i>ower
May be over the post-boy's way ?
The wayward wanderer from his home,
The sailor upon the sea,
Have prayers to bless them where mey roam -
Who thinketh to pray for me r
Minnie Moore.
Jopied by permission of J. H. Hidt.ky, 519 Broadway, Albany N. T
Publisher of the music and owner of copyright.
The rose on thy cheek grows pale, Minnie Moore,
Thy voice has a milder tone —
I catch in the silent night, Minnie Moore,
The seund of a weary moan ;
The maple leaves are all red, Minnie,
And gather around the door,
When we watched the birds in spring, Minnie, —
Tbou'rt fading, Minnie Moore.
CHORUS.
The flush of health has all fled, Minnie,
It rests on the maple leaves ;
And the oak leaf brown, as it settles dowh,
At the creeping shadow grieves.
My heart beats slowly and sad, Miunie Moore,
At the oak leaves deepening brown,
For we'll miss thy cheerful face, Minnie Moore,
When they sadly settle down.
Slowly the shadows will creep, Minnie,
Over the homestead's dreary floor,
And I'll ever wake from sleep, Minnie,
Sighing for Minnie Moore.
The flush of health, &c.
The winter will come again, Minnie Moore,
And the evening fires will burn,
But my heavy eyes away, Minnie Moore,
From the leaping blaze will turn.
It will on'y make *ie sad, Minnie.
And I'll pace the lighted floor,
For my lonely heart will droop, Minnie,
Twill pine for Minnie Moore.
The flush of health, &c
B
14
Somebody is waiting for
Somebody.
Um ■ o ■ <*■ , .. ,,
Rainy and rough is the day,
There's a heart beating for somebody ,
I must be up and away,
Somebody's waiting for somebody ;
Thrice has she been at the gate,
Thrice has she listened for somebody,
'Mid the night, stormy and late,
Somebody's wating for somebody.
Somebody's waiting for somebody
There'll be a comforting fire,
There'll be slippers for somebody,
One in her neatest attire
Will look to the table for somebody ;
Though the star's fled from the West,
Still there's a star yet for somebody,
Lighting the home he loves best,
Warming the bosom of somebody.
Warming the bosom of somebody.
There'll be a coat in a chair ;
There'll be a welcome for somebody
There'll be a wife's tender care ;
Love's fond endearments for somebody ;
There'll be a little one's charms,
Soon 'twill be waiting for somebody,
When I have both in my arms,
O, but how blest will be somebody.
O, but how blest will be somebody.
15
My Grandmother's Advice.
Music Published by H. Waters, 333 Broadway, N. Y.
lived with my grandma on yonder little green,
She's the nicest old lady that ever was seen ;
She taught me fine lesions of prudence and care,
She bade me above all things of young men beware,
Of young men to beware,
Of young men to beware,
And she bade above all things of young men to beware.
These false youne men they flatter and deceive,
3o, my dearest Eliza, you must not believe ;
They'll flatter, they'll coax, till you are in their snare,
And away goes poor old grandma's care,
Poor old grandma's care,
Poor old grandma's care,
And away goes poor old grandma's care.
The first came a courting was little Johnny Green,
Fine young man as ever was seen ;
But the words of my grandma did run in my head,
And I could not hear one word that he said,
One word that he said,
One word that he said,
And I ccuid not hear one word that he said.
The next came a courting was young Ellis Grave,
'Twas then we met with a joyous love ;
With a joyous love I could not be afraid,
You'd better get married than die an old maid,
Than die an old maid,
Than die an old maid,
Better get married than die an oh? maid.
Oh, dear I what a fuss these old women do make,
I wish in my heart they would make a mistake ;
If all the young women of young men were afraid,
Then grandma herself would have died an aid maid
Would have died an old maid,
Would have died an old maid,
Then grandma herself would have died an old nml<L
16
Darling Nelly Moore,
I've wandered by the hut side,
Where Is ell v used to dwell,
And sat upon the seat we made,
My aching heart to quell.
But now she's gone to happier climes,
Her troubles they are o'er,
This darkey's heart is breaking fast
For darling Nelly Moore
CHORUS.
Then good-by, good-by, Nelly dear,
We ne'er shall see you more ;
You're gone to happier, better climes,
Your troubles they are o'er.
Oh, she was every thing to me,
We loved each other well,
And all the darkies in the place
Thought all the world of Nell.
I can't help cry to think she's dead, —
On, Nell, why have you gone,
&nd left this darkey by himself
To walk about alone?
Then good-by, &e.
t almost think I see you now
Away up in the sky ;
if we be good, old ma^Ja say^
We go there when we die.
So I'll be patient, Nelly love,
I'll see you by-and-by,
And oh ! what happy times we'll hav*
Awa,7 up in the sky !
,Q}i en good-by, fcc.
1?
Nancy Bell, or Old Pine Tree
Oh, darkies, now I'm going to sing,
De truth to you Til tell,
Ob happy days dat I hab seen
Wid my dear Nancy Bell.
Oh, I wish dat I wa3 back again.
"Way down in Tennessee,
Wid my dear Narjcy by my side,
Beneath de old pine tree.
CHORUS.
,rTis many a night since first we met
Beneath dat old pine tree,
And dar we told our tales ob lub,
How happy we would be.
My lub has left me long ago,
Whar she is, no orfe can tell,
An I am nearly crazy now
For my dear Nancy Bell ;
But I drempt last night, when all was still,
Dat she'd come back to me,
An I would yet see happy days
Beneath the old pine tree.
'Tis many a night, &c.
I quite forgot I was so old,
It seems to me a dream,
Dat three-score years hab pa?! esi'2 gziL2^
Since I was seventeen ;
But ebery ting comes right at last,
An Nancy's true to me,
An when we die, oh, let us rest
Beneath the old pine tree.
Tis many a night, &c.
18
Our Boyhood Days.
^ . » . g—
I'm sitting alone in ray office, dear Lew,
And writing and singing my lays ;
Tm laughing and crying as memory goes back
To the time of our boyhood days.
Though man that you are, do you mind it, dear Lew,
The cabin where first we saw light,
Which father so carefully chinked up with dirt,
To make all the crevices tight ?
D'ye mind it, your lubberly form, my dear Lew,
Your eyes ever laughing through tears,
Your ball, and your skates, and your trundling-hoop,
The bliss of your earlier years ?
D'ye mind it, the times I have switched you, dear Lewi
When "Mother! " or some such a shield,
Was the word that instinctively burst from your lips,
While I took to the woods or the field ?
D'ye mind it, our mother's sideboard, dear Lew,
Where nut-cakes and doughnuts were kept,
The old trundle-bed that was pulled out on trucks,
Where we, boy, have peacefully slept ?
Since then, upon mattrass and sofa, dear Lew,
Ofttimes I have pillowed my head ;
But ah ! I have never yet found such repose
As came from that old trundle-bed.
That sideboard and trundle-frame, Lew, are no more—
The quilts and the sheets, too, are gone ;
Though Fancy insists that those sheets are the sheet!
My pen is now scribbling upon.
D'ye mind it, old Hephzibah's ferule, dear Lew,
Which taught us to read and to spell ?
The fears of that ferule were like to the fears
I now entertain of a hell.
That ferule was missing one morn, my dear Lew,
While Hepzibah went to her home ;
Aea Lombard — but Asa I will not expose,
For. mind boy, we 'g^reed to be mum !
19
D'ye mind it, our terrible punishment, Lew,
That sitting with Catharine Russ?
Our peeping through fingers when prisoned there, too
To see who were giggling at us ?
Tis strange, my dear Lew, how that habit, of late.
lias conquered that boyish fear —
Since then I have sat a whole night beside Kate,
Without even shedding one tear.
D'ye mind it, the place where we teetered, dear Lew,
The fence that stood over the " run ? "
Such teetering, was an innocent sport,
For, mind it, we teetered for fun.
Since then I liave teetered with larger-sized bo} s,
But always have teetered for pelf;
I've teetered many a lad from the plank,
And often been teetered myself.
D'ye mind it, " Old Robinson's " husking, dear Lew
Where all drank new rum from a jug;
Where husking commenced with a jig and a reel,
And closed with a kiss and a hug?
now am a rigid teetotaller, Lew,
And stick to my principles snug ;
i.nd nothing would tempt me to "liquor" again,
Unless h was "Old Robinson's" jug.
D'ye mind it, the day of all days in our youth,
When death came so horrid and grim,
Ind brandished his scythe till Le clipped the last thread
Of the life of our dog we called Prim ?
D'ye mind it, the knoll by the "beech-bars," dear Lew,
Where beech-nuts so many we got,
And lugged in our caps down at Huckins's store,
T} barter for powder and she* ?
fijQce beech-nuts grew dull, Lew, Tve tried other scheme*
And now am in business that pays ;
But all of my gains I would toss to" the winds
Fer a month of our boyhood days.
The Quilting Party.
— . ,.+-, ,
Twas down at Major Parson's house,
Th.e gals they had a quiltin',
Just for tu show their nandsouie look*
And have a little jiltin'.
. — Yankee lasses are the U-
'niversal airth bewitching
They're good and true, and handsom** ta,
In parlor and in kitchen.
There was Deacon Jones' darter Sal,
Squire Wheeler's darter Mary,
And General Carter's youngest gal,
That looks just like a fairy.
Yankee lasses are the U, &c
fhere was Lucy White, and Martha Brown,
And Parson's darter Betty,
Femimo Pinkhorn, Prudence Short,
And Major Downing's Eetty.
Yankee lasses are the U, &c
But if there was a handsome gal,
To make a fellar's heart right,
I guess it was, by all accounts,
Miss Carolina Cartwright.
Yankee lasses are the TJ, &c
Wai, as they were a whirlin' plate,
And playin' hunt the slipper,
Jerusha Parsons went to git
Some cider in a dipper.
Yankee lasses are the U, &o>
But just as she had left the room,
And got inter the entry,
She give a scream, and stood stock-still
Just like a frozen sentry.
Yankee lasses are the U, Akj.
We all ran out, and there, I swow, •
Both huggin' like creation,
Miss Cartwright and Sam Jones we saw,
A kissin' like tarnation.
Yankee lasses are the U, ke.
Oh, such a laugh as we sot up,
You never heerd a finer,
Says I, "I rekin kissin's cheap,
Don't you, Miss Carolina r"
Yankee lasses are the U, &c
I wish you'd saw Miss Cartwright blush,
Jest like if she'd painted,
She said — she had the cholic — and
In Samuel's arms had fainted.
Yankee lasses are the U, fee*
And now, young gals, I'd say tu you,
When you go tu a frolic,
Don't let your fellars kiss ard hug,
Unless- -you have the cholic.
Yankee l»s?es are the C\ &e
Tlie Fireman's Viotoi y.
QUARTETTE.
flark ! hark ! bark ! to the deep-toned hell,
Bark ! hark ! hark ! why peals that gclemn k*w»Il r
CHORUS.
Ftre ! fire ! fire ! fire !
.Urn out ! turn out ! turn out !
TENOR SOLO.
dee, the sky is turning red,
Distant shouts assault the air,
Shrinks the heart with silent dread ,
But the fireman, scorning fear,
Quickly startled from his rest,
Bids adieu to sweet repose,
And to succor the distressed
Now his noble spirit glows.
CHORUS,
ljook alive there, clear the street there,
Don't you hear the engine bell ?
Rushing, crushing, madly pushing,
On they gallop, all pell mell.
Come along — hey, all together,
There's another close behind ;
Clatter, shatter, what's the matter ?
Push along there, never mind,
BASS SOLO.
Now, now we reach the ground,
Hark ! whence come those accent* dire
Ah, great heaven, encircled round
By a sea of living fire,
There a female form appears,
With despair and terror wild,
Fast her unavailing tears
Fall upou her infant child.
CHORUS.
Oh, His a fearful sight to see
Th« fire-fiend have the mastery.
SOLO.
That great peril none may dare,
Though eacli heart is bursting then
Horror ! must they perish there,
In the sight of living men ?
No ! hurrah ! on mercy bent,
Smoke, am! flame, and danger's braved,
And the ear of night is rent
By the cry, " They're saved ! they're saved F
CHORUS.
Oh, 'tis a glorious sight to nee
The fiicrcan'^ hloodi*M victory.
22
My Mother Dear.
There was a place in childhood,
That I remember well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone
Bright fairy tales did tell ,
And gentle words and fond embrace
Were given with joy to me,
When I was in that happy state,
Upon my mother's knee.
CHORUS.
My mother dear, my mother dear !
My gentle, gentle mother !
When fairy tales were ended,
" Good-night," she softly said,
And kissed and laid me down to sleep
Within my tiny bed ;
And holy words she taught me there,
Methinks I yet can see
Her angel eyes, as close [ knelt
Beside my mother's knee.
My mother dear, &c.
in the sickness of my childhood,
The perils of my prime,
The sorrows of my riper years,
The cares of every time —
When doubt or danger weighed i e dowa,
Then pleading all for me,
It was a fervent prayer to Heavei
That bent my mother's knee.
My mother dear, &c.
23
I Wandered by the Brook-
side.
I wandered by the brook-side,
I wandered by the mill ;
I could not hear the brook flow,
The noisy wheel was still,
There was no sound of grasshopper,
No chirp of any bird ;
And the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
[ sat beneath the elm tree,
I watched the long, long shade,
And as it grew still longer,
I did not feel afraid ;
For I listened for a footfall,
I listened for a word,
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
He came not, no, he came not!
The moon came out alone ;
The little stars sat, one by one,
Each on its golden throne.
The evening wind passed by my cheek,
The leaves above were stirred,
But the beating of my own heart
Was all the sound I heard.
Fast silent tears were falling,
When something stood behind,
A hand was on my shoulder,
I knew the touch was kind ;
It drew me nearer, nearer,
We could not speak a word,
And the beating of our own heart*
Was all the sound we heard.
*•*#
24
1 ittle Katy, or Hot Corn.
Iiu3ic Published by H. Waters, 333 Broadway, N. Y.
** Oh, hot c*rn ! nice hot corn ! who will buy my hot corn ?"
Criea a child in accents mild, " come, buy my hot corn !"
Scalding tears are stealing down her pallid cheek,
Hope no beam revealing, Katy's sad and weak.
Yet all the while she tries to smile, and in accents so forlorn,
To passers-by you'll hear her cry, " Oh, buy, oh, buy my hot cor*
Oh, hot corn, nice hot corn ! who will buy my hot corn !"
Cries Katy dear with many a tear, " Oh buy, buy my hot corn I"
CHORUS.
" Hot corn, hot corn ! here's your nice hot corn !w
Pass not by, or she may die should she not sell her hot corn,
•* Hot corn, hot corn I "here's your nice hot corn !n
Pass not by, or she may die should she not sell her hot corn.
" Oh, h©t corn ! nice hot corn 1 who will buy my hot corn ?
'Tis very late — no longer wait, come buy my hot corn !
Little children long are sleeping, half the world is now at rest,
Yet poor Katy, she is weeping, dares not seek her wretched nest.
Her wicked mother madly burning, passion beaming from her eyes,
For life's poison she is yearning, "Give, oh, give me drink I" she'criA*
Yet Katy dear, oft with a tear, ushers in the coming morn,
Faintly crying, — almost dying, " Buy, oh, buy my hot corn P*
Hot corn, hot corn ! here's your nice hot corn, &c.
" Oh, hot corn, nice hot corn I" she will sing no more to-night.
Katy's lying — almost dying, death is hovering now in sight ;
Yet to her it is a blessing, life to her is naught but woe,
Katy knows there's no oppressing in heaven where she's sure to go.
Poverty hath chilled the flower, that might else so sweetly bloom,
Old grim death alone hath power to snatch poor Katy from her dooa
Oh, Katy dear, what bliss is near, to usher in your coming norn,
><ife is flying, Katy's dying, no more crying, " Nice hot corn •"
" Hot corn, hot corn 1" no more at early dawn
Thoult be sighing, faintly crying, " Buy, oh, buy my hot cons i*
25
The Grave of Lilly Dale.
-x> .». »■
We smoothed down the locks of her soft goldek
hair,
And folded her arms on her breast,
\nd laid her, at eve, in the valley so fair,
'Mid the blossoms of summer to rest.
CHORUS.
Oh, rest, Lilly, rest no care can assail,
For green grows the turf
O'er the tear-moistened grave,
Of the lairest flower of the vale.
She sleeps 'neaui the spot she had marked for ro-
pose,
Where the flowers soonest blossom in spring,
And zephyr's first breathe the perfumes of the rose.
And the birds come at evening to sing.
Oh, rest, Lilly, rest, &c.
The wide spreading boughs of the old chestnut
tree,
Bend low o'er the place where she lies,
There eve's purple beams longest glow on the tea,
And the morn's drink the dew as they rise.
Oh, rest, Lilly, rest, &c.
Alone where the brook murmurs soft on the air,
She sleeps with the turf on her breast,
As we laid her, at e\e, in the valley so fair,
'Mid the blossoms of Summer to rest.
Oh, rest, Lilly, rest, &c.
26
Kathleen Mavourneen
Kathleen Mavourneen ! the gray dawn is breaking,
The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill,
The lark from her light wing the bright dew is shaking,
Kathleen Mavourneen ! what, slumbering still !
Oh ! hast thou forgotten how soon we must sever ?
Oh ! hast thou forgotten this day ? we must part ?
It may be for years, it may be for ever;
Oh! why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
It may be for years, and it may be for ever.
Then why art thou silent, Kathleen Mavourneen?
Kathleen Mavourneen ! awake from thy slumbers
The blue mountains glow in the sun's golden light ;
Ah! where is the spell that once hung on my numbers T
Arise in thy beauty, thou star of the night,
Arise in thy beauty, thou star of the night.
Mavourneen, Mavourneen, my sad tears are falling
To think that from Erin and thee I must part ;
It may be for years, it may be for ever —
Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
It may be for years, and it may be for ever ;
Then why art thou silent, &av,Mpen MavourneoiL
27
Bryan O'Lynn.
Bryan O'Lynn was a Scotchman born,
Flis teeth thev were long, and his beard was unshora,
His temples far out, and his eyes were far in,
I'm a beautiful creature, says Bryan O'Lynn.
CHORUS.
With my ranting, roaring, hoaring, boaring, screwing,
Gouging, auguring, melliting, ciiseiing, stokering,
Plastering, gammering, sailoring, wafering,
Capering, tinkering, soldiering, butcheriug,
With my three-handled four-ironed gouging pin,
Tm a beautiful creature, says Bryan O'Lynn.
Bryan O'Lynn had no coat to put on,
lie borrowed a goat skin to make him one —
He planted the horns right under his chin,
They'll answer <br pistols, says Bryan O'Lynn.
Bryan O'Lynn had no breeches to wear,
So he bought him a sheepskin to make him a pair
With the skinny side out, and the woolly side in,
They're nice, light and cool, says Bryan O'Lynn.
Bryan O'Lynn had no watch for to wear,
So he got him a turnip and scoop'd it out fair ;
He then put a cricket clane under the skin,
They'll think it's a ticking, says Bryan O'Lynn.
Bryan O'Lynn he bought him a gun,
He planted the trigger right under his thumb,
He pulled the trigger, the gun give a crack,
And knocked Bryan O'Lynn on the broad of his back,
Bryan O'Lynn went to bring his wife home,
He had but one horse, that was all skin and bone^
111 put her behind as nate as a pin,
And her mother before me, says Bryan O'Lynn.
Bryan O'Lynn, and his wife and the mother,
Were all going over the bridge together,
The bridge broke down and they all tumbled in, J
Well find ground at the bottom, says Bryan O'Lyna*
28
Mary of the "Wild Moor.
it was on one cold winter's night,
As the wind blew across the wild moor,
When Mary came wandering home with her babe,
'Till she came to her own father's door ;
11 Oh, father! dear father! " she cried,
" Come down and open the door,
Or the child in my arms will perish and die,
By the wind that blows across the wild moor.
" Oh, why did I leave this dear spot,
W here once I was happy and free ?
But now doomed to roam, without friends or home
And no one to take pity on me ! n
The old man was deaf to her cries,
Not a sound of her voice reached Lis ear,
But the watch-dog did howl, and the village bell toITd,
And the wind blew across the wild moor.
But how must the old man have felt,
When he came to the door in the morn ! —
Poor Mary wras dead, but the child was alive,
Closely pressed in its dead mother's arms.
Half frantic he tore his gray hair,
And the tears down his cheeks they did pour,
Saying, "This cold winter's night, she perished and died
By the wind that blew across the wild moor."
The old man in grief pined away,
And the child to its mother went soon,
And no one, they say, has lived there to this day, —
And the cottage to ruin has gone.
The villagers point out the spot,
Where the willow droops over the door,
Saying, "There Mary died, once a gay village bride,
By the wind that blows across the wild moor."
29
Crazy Jane.
Why, fair maid, in every feature
Are such signs of fear expressed?
Can a wandering wretched creature,
With such horror fill thy breast ?
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee ?
Trust me sweet, thy fears are vain,
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee,
Shun not then poor crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish ?
Mini me and avoid my woe,
When men flatter, sigh, and languish,
Think them false, I found them so.
For I loved him so sincerely,
None could ever love again.
But the youth I loved so dearly
Stole the wits of crazy J ane.
Fondly my young heart believed b*m,
Which was doomed to love but o*v\
He sighed, he vowed, aud I believed ki»
He was false, and I'm undone.
From that hour has reason never
Had her empire o'er my brain,
Henry fled, with him forever
Fled the wits of crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met;
Still I sing my love lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain,
Whilst each passer-by in pity,
Gives to Lelp the crazy Jane.
c*
30
Mr. Finagan.
Tm a dacent laboring youth,
I wur born in the town of Dunshoco.klii
Fm a widower now in my youth,
Since I buried swate Molly McLaughlin.
I wur married but once in my life,
Shure I'll never commit such a sin agair
For I found out when she wur my wife,
She wur fond of one Barny McFinagan,
CRORUS.
Whack fil lil Ian ta ra le,
Whack fil lil km tar a laddy de,
Whack fil lil Ian ta ra le,
With a ri tol lol lol dil de de de Qo.
Her father had castles of mud,
Of which I wur fond of admiring,
They wur built in the time of the flood,
For to keep her ancestors dry in.
When he found I had Molly bespoke,
First he got fat and then he got thin agai£
In the struggle, his gizzerd he broke,
And we had a corpse of McFinagan.
For convainance, the corpse was put,
Along with his friends in the barn, shure,
While some came to it on foot,
While others came down from Dunagrinshoj
My wife she cried and she sobbed,
I chucked her out twice and she got in agaii
I gave her a belt in the gob,
When I wur knocked down by McFinagan.
The bed and the corpse was upset,
The row it commenced in a minute shure,
31
Divil a bit of a stick had I got,
Till they broke all the legs of the furniture.
In faith as the blood flew about,
Eyes were shoved out and shoved in agin,
I got a south-western clout,
Which knocked me on top of poor Finagan.
How long I was dead I don't know,
But this I know, I wasn't livin' shure,
I awoke wid a pain in my toe,
For they were both tied wid a ribben shure
I opened my mouth for to spake,
The shate was rolled up to my chin again ;
Och, Molly, says I, I'm awake ;
Oh, says she, you'll be buried wid Finagan,
I opened my eyes for to see —
I strove to get up to knock her about —
I found that my two toes were tied,
Like a spoon in a pot of thick stirabout
But I soon got the use of my toes,
By a friend of the corpse, Larry Gilligan.
Who helped me to get into my clothes,
For to spread a grass quilt over Finagan
Och, my she devil came home from tho spree,
Full of whiskey and ripe from tho buryin' shwt
And she showed as much mercy to me,
As a hungry man shows a red herriu' shure.
One billy-go-fister I gave,
Which caused her to grunt and to grin again,
In six months I opened the grave,
And slapp'd her on the bones of Finagan.
It's now that I'm single again,
I'll spend my time rakin, and battering
m go to the fair wid the men, and,
Dance wid the girls for a patterin,
They'll swear that I am stuck to a lee,
And as they say to catch him agin,
But they'll not come the cuckle o're me,
For they might be related to Finagan.
\Viciow ]M!sLclixee.
Widow Machree, pray then open your door,
Och, hone! widow Machree,
And show me the easiest plank in your floor,
Och, hone ! widow Machree.
Ye have nothing to fear,
I tell you, my dear,
Not a sound can ye hear,
in sleep coming from me :
Barrin that I should creep,
Or walk in my sleep,
Och, hone! widow Machree.
Widow Machree, for the third and last time,
Och, hone ! widow Machree,
Will you listen to reason that's seasoned with rhyme
Och, hone ! widow Machree.
Just think of the time,
When you'd get past your prrime,
Would you think it a crime,
That you cheated mankind,
Of what nature designed.
Darlin widow Machree, will you fully explain,
Och, hone ! widow Machree,
For the good of your conscience and soul, what I ma a*
Och, hone ! widow Machree.
Didn't old Adam loan,
From his rib a back bone
To manufacture, och, hone,
For posterity ;
The first female man,
Deny that if you can,
Och, hone ! widow Machree.
Widow Machree, pay your debts, fie for shame
Och, hone ! widow Machree,
Ab you owe man a rib, I lay claim to that &am»
Och, hone! widow Machree,
And by paying the debt,
You'll draw interest yet,
And an armfull you'll get,
Of that same property ;
Shall be yours while life bidea,
And a great deal besides,
Och, hone ! widow Machree
33
The Irishman's Shanty
Did jVb ever go infill an Irishman's shanty ?
Och ! b'ys, that's the place where the whiskey is plenty *,
With his pipe in his mouth, there situ Paddy so fre*,
No king in his palace is prouder than &6 I
Arrah ! me honey I w-h-a-c-k Padoy's the boy.
There's a three-legged stool, with a table to match,
And the door of the shanty is locked with a latch ;
There's a nate feather mattrass all bustin' with straw,
For the want of a bedstead, it lies on the floor.
Arrah I me honey I &c
There's a snug little bureau without paint or gilt,
Made of boords that was left when the shanty was built
There's a three-cornered mirror hangs up on the wall*
The divil a face has been in it at all.
Arrah ! me honey ! &c.
He has pigs in the sty, an a cow in the stable,
And he feeds them on scraps that is left from the table
They'd starve if confined, so they roam at their aise,
And come into the shanty whinever they plaise.
Arrah ! me honey ! &c.
He has three rooms in one — kitchen, bed-room, and ha*.
And his chist it is three wooden pegs in the wall ;
Two suits of owld clothes makes his wardrobe complete
One to wear in the shanty, thet same for the street.
Arrah ! me houey ! &c.
He can relish good victuals as ever ye's ate,
But is always continted with praties and mate ;
He prefers them when cowld (if he cant get them ket
And makes tay in a bowl when ho can't get a pot.
Arrah ! me honey ! &c.
There is one who partakes of his sorrows and joys,
Attends to the shanty, the girls and the boys ;
(The brats he thinks more of than gold that's refln#4)
But Biddy's the jewel that's set in his mind.
Arrah ! me honey ! kc.
The rieh may divide their enjoyments alone.
With those who have riches as great as their own ;
But Pat hangs the latch-string outside of his door,
And will share his last cent with the needy and poor*
Arrah ! me honey ? &c.
Ha 2 2
34
Darling Old Stick.
My name itis Morgan McCurty, from Trim!
41 j relations are all dead, 'cept one, brother Jim —
And he's now gone soulgering to Cape Hall,
And I expect he's laid low with a nick in his skull!
ciiouus.
Let him be dead or alivin'
A prayer for his soul shall be given,
That he shall be sent home or to heaven,
For he left me this darling old stick.
If this stick it could spake, it would tell you some tales,
And smatter the countenances of the O'Nales !
It has caused bits o' skull to fly up in the air,
It was the promotion of fun at every fair ;
The last time I used it 'twas on Patrick's Day,
Larry Fagan and I jumped into a shay ;
We went to a lair at the side of Athloy,
Where we danced, and when done, kissed Kate McAlvoy i
And her sweetheart went out for her cousin ;
By the powers, he brought in a dozen.
What a daldum they'd have knocked us in,
If I hadn't 'ave had this darling old stick.
War, was the word, when a faction came in,
For they pummeled me well — they stripped off to the skin >
Like a rector I stood, watching the attack,
the firs** one came up I knocked on his back I
Then I poked out the eye of Pat Glanc),
For he once humbugged my sister Nancy ;
In the meantime Miss Kate took a fancy
Co roe and my innocent stick.
S5
I smattered her sweetheart until he > \ i t'ack,
Kate tipped me the wink, we were oft t-u », thwack :
We went till a house at the end of the tsva,
Where we kept up our spirits by pouring ao:se down ;
Then the whiskey began for U> vrto-m her,
I got her snug up in a corner j
She said her sweetheart would Infcrja o» Lei j
'Twas there I said praise to my stkk.
Kate she drank whiskey to such a degree,
That for her support she had to lean upon mi;
I said I would see her safe till her abode,
*fwas there that we fell in the middle of the t\"f
Until aroused by the magistrate's o* 4 g.
Devil a toe could we go further,
Siii rounded by police for murder
Was myself and my innocent stick.
When I was acquitted I jumped from the dock,
Au' all the gay fellows around me did flock ;
They gave me a sore arm, they shook my hands t sa,
It was only for fear of seeing my own coffin !
I went and I bought a gold ring, sirs,
Miss Kate to the priest I did bring, si&
That night we did joyfully sing, sirs,
Vfee adventures of myself awl my stick*
38
Bory O'More.
fonng Rory O'Mcre courted Kathleen Bawn,
Be was bold as the hawk, she as soft as the fawn,
He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please,
And he thought the best way to do that was to tease.
" Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry,
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye ;
" With your tricks I don't know, in troth, whi\t I'm about
Faith, you've teased till I've put on my cloak inside out."
" Oh, jewel," says Rory, " that same is the way
You've treated my heart this many a day,
.And 'tis pleased that I am ; and why not, to be sure ?
For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'Afore.
" Indeed then," says Kathleen, " don't think of the like,
For I half gave a promise to soothering ifike ;
The ground that I walk on he loves I'll be bound,"
"Faith," says Rory, " I'd rather love you than the ground/"
M Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go,
Sure I dream every night that I'm hating you so ! "
" Oh 1 " says Rory, " that same I'm delighted to hear,
For dreams always go by contraries, my dear ;
Oh, jewel ! keep dreaming that same till you die,
And bright morning will give dirty night the black Ik ;
And 'tis pleased that I am, and why not, to be sure ?
Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More,
44 Oh Kathleen, my darling, you've teased me enough,
And I've thrashed for your sake Dinny Grilles and Jim »n^
And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a bea/t,
So I think, after that, 1 may talk to the priest ! "
Then Rory, the rogue, stole his hand round her neck,
So soft and so white, without freckle or speck,
And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with lighi
And kissed her sweet lips, don't you think he was righf
•* Now, Rory, leave off, sir, you'll hug me no more,
That's eight times to-day that you've kissed me before.'
* Then here goes another," saya he, " to make sure,
Par there's luck in odd num'xj-s," says Beerr O'Moro
87
My Eye and Betty Martin
In Yorkshire I wur born an 1 bred,
And knows a thiug or i.vo, sir,
Nay, what be more, my father said
My wit would briug me through, sir ;
At single stick or kiss the maids,
I wur the boy vor sartin,
Zayi 1, push on, to be a; raid's
My eye and Betty Martin.
Hi tol do rol. etc.
At whoam 1M o ten - talk
Of Lunuun's famowi city,
And thai >o which they walk
Wur paved with gold so pretty ;
To mam and dad I gave a
Says I, " I'm off vor saitin,"
So about my trip to make a fuss,
Is my eye and Betty Martin,
At Inn arrived, I met a man,
Who offered me his sarvice,
To take my baggage wur his plan,
And help me to a jarvis ;
** But stop," says I, '* this wunna do,
Your rigs I'ze known, vor tartin,
Tour kindness, friend, 'tween me and tc*s%
My eye and Betty Martin."
A lady next, a flashy dame,
I in the strand did meet, sir ;
Who said as how it wur a shame
That I should walk the street, sir ;
She talked of love, and sarvents, too,
And thought her prey right sarti:.,
But, " Noa," says 1, " to go with you »
My eye and Betty Martiu."
I 'to *een the lion? and the
The circus, Aablej'a, t«>. .
The play an .
ADd all that's it . <ir
8© back to whoam IV
And marry Doll vor ttrti
Cm pleaae her so, v .in"!
Jfy eye and Betty Martin.
38
Good News from Home.
Good news from home — good news for me,
Has come across the deep blue sea,
From friends that I have left in tears —
From friends that I've not seen for years;
And since we parted long ago,
My life has been a scene of woe,
But now a joyful hour has come,
For I haye heard good news from home.
CHORUS,
Good news from home, good news for me,
Has come across the deep, blue sea,
From friends that I have left in tears,
From friends that I've not seen for years-
No fathers near to guide me now,
No mother's tear to soothe my brovr,
No sister's voice falls on mine ear,
Nor brother's smile to give me cheer ;
But, though I wander far away,
My heart is full of joy to-day,
For friends across the ocean's foam,
Have sent to me good news from home.
Good news from home, &c.
When shall I see that cottage door,
Where I've spent years of joy before?
'Twas there I knew no grief nor care,
My heart was always happy there ;
Though I may never see it more,
Nor stand upon my native shore,
Where'er on earth I'm doom'd to roam,
My heart will be with those at home.
Good news from home, &c.
39
The Old Folks are G-oneo
Far, far id many lands I've wandcr'd,
Sadly and lone,
My heart wag ever turning southward
To all the dear ones at home ;
Ilere after all my weary roaming,
At early dawn,
I've come and find the cot still standing,
riut, oh, the old folks are gone.
Chorus.^- Here I wander sad and lonely,
In the dear old home,
Those that I love so well and fondly
All the old folks are gone.
Here's where I froliek'd with my brother,
Under the tree ;
Here's where I knelt reside my motker,
From care and sorrow free;
Still sing the little birds as sweetly,
night and morn,
Still runs the little brook so fleetly,
Bat oh, the old folks are gone.
Chorus. — Here I wander saa and lonely, &c.
Down where the old banana's waving,
They're laid to rest,
Where the Swanee's peaceful water's laving
The green turf o'er their breast ;
But there's a home I know where parting
sver can come ;
Oh, for that home I must be starting,
There's where the old folks are gone.
Vhorus. — Here I wander sad and lonely, &c.
40
What is Home without a
Mother.
What is home without a mother,
What are all the joys we meet,
When her loving smiles no longer,
Greets the coming, coming of our feet<
The clays seem long, the nights are drear,
And time rolls slowly on ;
And, oh, how few are childhood's pleasuF f
When her gentle care is gone.
Things we prize are first to vanish :
Hearts we love to pass away ;
And how soon e'en in her childhood,
We behold her turning, turning gray )
Her eye grows dim, her step is slow
Her joys of earth arc past ;
And sometimes ere we learn to Know n<rr,
She hath breathed on earth, on earth tor last,
Older hearts may have their sorrows,
Griefs that quickly die away,
But a mother lost in childhood,
Grieves the heart, the heart from day /) day ;
We miss her kind, her willing hand,
Her fond and earnest care ;
And, oh, how dark is life around us,
What is home without, without her there!
41
Minnie Dear.
Minnie dear has left us,
Bonnie, blithesome lass,
And gone to rest adown the vale,
Beneath the springing grass.
Always kind and gentle,
We did love her well ;
How we miss her presence
Words can never tell.
Chorus. — Minnie dear, Minnie dear,
Bonnie, winsome lass,
lias gone to rest adown the vale.
Beneath the springing grass.
Minnie loved the blossoms
In the fields so sweet ;
And the breezes softly
Came her cheek to greet.
All about the wild wood,
Ling'ring on her way,
Did she lightly wander
Every sunny day.
■Chorus. — Minnie dear, &c
Minnie left the blossoms
Growing on the lea ;
For the angels loved her
Better far than me.
Minnie dear has left us,
Bonnie, blithesome lass,
And gone to rest adown the vale,
Beneath the springing grass.
Chorus. — Minnie dear, &c.
D*
42
Oh! I'm going Home.
Oh ! I'm going home to the old hearth-stone,
Where warm hearts do greet me as homeward I come ;
The fetters are strong 'round the household throng,
And I've wander'd long ; but I'm going, going, I'm going
home,
So I'm going, going, going, going, I'm going home.
'Xeath the ever-green hill, by the gentlest rill
That ever bless'd pebbles, tn« old cot still
Goes on to decay, as it did that day
When I wander'd away ; but I'm going, going, &c.
Soon, soon shall I press to my throbbing breast
The friends I in childhood so fondly caress'd ;
My heart strings thrill, my eye-lids fill,
For I love them still ; Oh, I'm going, going, &c.
Oh ! would that my joy were free from alloy,
Oh ! would that no bodings my hopes could destroy ;
But I shall soon know whether weal or woe
Betide where I go ; for I'm going, going, &c.
Kind strangers, adieu! with hearts ever true,
As onward I go, I will still think ot you ;
And when loved one3 I meet 'round the family seat,
!Four praise I'll repeat ; for I'm going, going, I'm going
home,
So I'm going, going, going, going, I'm going, home.
" Home, sweet, sweet home,
There'3 no place like home.
There's no place like home."
43
Oh ! the Sea, the Sea.
Ob, the sea, the sea, hath a charm for me
As I list to its changeless roar ;
And I'd rather sail at the sound of the gale
Than wander the green earth o'er.
And oft as I gaze on future days,
I pray that my lot may be
In the future cast as has been the past,
On the breast of the heaving sea.
Chorus. — The sea, the sea, the wide and free,
The home of the stout and brave,
Is the happiest place of all to me —
Then hurrah tor the sparkling wave.
For 'tis joy to rise on the billowy tide,
And watch the bounding spray,
As the tinted clouds that the sky enshrouds
Herald the rising day ;
And with rapture I gaze on the sun's first rays
Gilding the sparkling wave,
As with azure and gold of beauty untold
Old ocean's brow they lave.
Chorus. — The sea, the sea, &c.
And at setting sun when the day is done,
To watch in the far-off west,
The amber and blue form a glorious hue,
Like halo that falls o'er the blest ;
And dream, as I gaze, of the olden days,
Of joy and lightsome mirth,
Ere far away 1 was lured to stray
From my childhood's happy hearth.
Chorus. — The sea, the sea, &c.
And often I hear, when the tempest's near,
The voice of the angry wave,
As with wailing scorn" it points to the bourne.
Where the sailor must find a grave ;
Yet I never fear when its voice I hear,
For 'tis sweeter far to me
To sink to rest on the ocean's breast.
Than be laid 'neath the greenwood treo
—The sea, the sea, &c-
44
My Love, he is a Sailleur
Boy.
My love he is a sailleur boy so galliant and bold,
He's as tall as a flag-staff, scarcely nineteen years old
For to cruise around this wide world he has left his own (eai
Ind my heart it is a busting because he is not here
CHORUS.
For his spirit was tre-men-duous,
And fierce to behold,
In a young man bred a carpentier,
Only nineteen years old.
His parients they bound him for to be a carpentier,
Dut a sea-faring life he did very much prefer —
For his spirit was tre-men-duous, and fierce to behold
In young man bred a carpentier only nineteen years o1*
For his spirit, &c.
My bussom it Ls a tossing, just like the rolling sea,
For fear that his affections don't still point to me ;
For a sweetheart can be found in each port I am told,
Especially f<r a young man only nineteen years old.
For his spirit, &c.
And it's oh for my lovier I grieve and repine,
For fear that this young man can never be mine ;
A.11 the wealth of the Indies in silvier and gold,
J would give for my gaiHeur hoy only iun«te«r ve*** odd
For kv sHrn 4c
45
Peter Gray.
& y song is of a nice young man
Whose name was Peter Gray,
The State where Peter Gray was bora
Was Penn-syl-va-ni-a.
This Peter Gray did fall in love
All with a nice young girl ;
The name of her I'm positive
Was Lizzy-Anna-Querl.
When they were going to be wed,
Her father he said " No ! "
And brutally did send her off
Beyond the O-hi-o.
When Peter found his lore was lost.
He knew not what to say,
He'd half a mind to jump into
The Sus-que-han-ni-a.
A. trading he went to the west,
For furs and other skins,
And there he was in crimson dreat
By bloody In-ji-ins.
When Lizzy Anna heard the new*.
She straightway went to bed
And never did get off of it
Until she was di-i-ed !
Fe fathers all a warning take.
Each one as has a girl,
lrd think upon poor Peter Gray
Aud Lizzy-Anna-Querl.
46
Billy Grimes the Rover.
—+—
To-morrow morn I'm sweet sixteen, and Billy Grimes tha
rover
as popp'd the question to me mamma, and wants to b
my lover ;
To-morrow morn, he says mamma, he's coining bright an
early,
To take a pleasant trip with me across the fields of barley.
irou must not go, my daughter dear, it is no use a talking,
You can not go across the field with Billy Grimes a walking ;
To think of his presumption now, the dirty ugly drover,
I wonder where your pride has gone to think of such a rover.
Old Grimes is dead, you know, mamma, and Billy is so lonely
Besides they say, too, Grimes has said, that Billy is the only.
So Fll be heir to all he's left, and that they say is nearly
A good ten thousand dollars' worth, and about six hundred
yearly.
I did not hear, my daughter dear, your last remark quite*
clearly ;
But Billy is a clever lad, and no doubt loves you dearly.
Be ready, then, to-morrow morn, and be up bright and early
To take a pleasant walk with him across the fields of barley.
And when we're married, dear mamma, we both shall look
so neatly,
m wear a thousand-dollar shawl — 'twill make me look so
sweetly ;
This common frock is getting old, and silks will soon b6
fashion,
^11 turn his pockets inside out, and meet with a short, I
I guess him.
Not quite so fast, my pretty miss, don't try to win the drover
Who's traveled this whole country through in search of a
true lover ;
My money ne'er shall buy your shawl, nor build your cus-
ties higher,
Please, madam, take your daughter home, I only did it t*
try her.
47
Katy Darling.
Oh, they tell me thou art dead, Katy Darling,
Thit thy smile I may never more behold !
Did they tell thee I was false, Katy Darling,
Or my love for thee had e'er grown cold ?
Oh, they know not the loving
Of the hearts of Erin's sons,
When a love like to thine, Katy Darling,
Is the goal to the race that he runs.
Oh, hear me, sweet Katy,
For the wild flowers greet me, Katy Darling,
And the love birds are singing on each tree
Wilt thou never more hear me, Katy Darling ?
Behold, love, I'm waiting for thee.
Tm kneeling by thy grave, Katy Darling,
This world is all a blank world to me.
Oh, could'st thou hear my wailing, Katy Darliu^
Or think, love, I am sighing for thee,
Oh, methinks the stars are weeping,
By their soft and lambent light,
And thy heart would be melting, Katy Darling,
Could'st thou see thy lone Dermont this night
Oh, listen, sweet Katy,
For the wild flowers are sleeping, Katy Darling,
And the love birds are nest'ling in each tree ;
Wilt thou never more hear me, Katy Darling,
Or know, love, I'm kneeling by thee.
'Tis useless all my weeping, Katy Darling,
But I'll pray that thy spirit be my guide,
And that when my life is spent, Katy Darling,
They will lay me down to rest by thy side.
Oh, a huge grief I'm bearing,
Though I scarce can heave a sigh ;
And I'll ever be dreaming, Katy Darling,
Of thy love every day till I die.
Farewell then, sweet Katy,
For the wild flowers will blossom, Katy Darling
And the love birds will warble on each tree,
But in heaven I 6hall meet thee, Katy Darling,
For there, love, thou'rt waiting for rr.e.
48
Good-Night.
Good-night! good-night! good-night!
To all a kind good- night !
Lo ! the moon from heaven is beaming,
O'er the silver waters streaming ;
'Tis the hour of calm delight;
Good-night! good-night! good-night! good-nigh***
Good-night! good-night! good-night!
To all a kind good-night!
Angels like, while earth is sleeping,
Stars above their watch are keeping,
As the Star of Bethlehem, bright!
Good-night! good-night! good-night! good-night!
Good-night ! good-night ! good-night !
To all a kind good-night !
Slumber sweetly till the morning,
Till the sun. the world adorniug,
Rise in all its glorious might !
Good-night! good-night! good-night! good-night,!
I Miss Thee So.
I miss thee so in our cottage home,'
When the daylight cares are o'er,
As I sit and watch the stars come out,
Where we've often sat before ;
And I listen in vain for thy welcome step,
Alas ! it will come no more.
I can not sing the songs we loved,
It would only bring me pain ;
And I turn away when other lips
Breathe a well-remembered strain ;
The voice that mingled with mine so oft
I may never hear again.
Oh, I miss thee so, thrice lonely now
Is the midnight of my way
And my sad heart longs for the cloudless dawn
Of a bright, triumphal day,
In a better land where from weeping eyes
All tears shall be wiped away.
49
Home, Sweet Home.
The dearest spot on earth to me
Is home, sweet home ;
The fairy land I've long'd to see,
Is home, sweet home.
There how charm'd the sense of hearing,
There where hearts are so endearing,
All the world is not so cheering
As home, sweet home.
I've taught my heart the way to prize
My home, sweet home;
I've learn'd to look with lover's eyes
On home, sweet home.
There where vows are truly plighted,
There where hearts are ae united,
All the world besKle I've slighted
For home, sweet home.
"Waiting for the May.
Ah ! my heart is weary, waiting,
Waiting for the May ;
Waiting for the pleasant rambles,
Where the fragrant hawthorn brambles,
With the woodbine alternating,
Scent the dewy way.
Ah! my heart is sore with sighing,
Sighing for the May ;
Sighing for the sure returning,
When the summer's beams are burning
Hopes and flowers that, dead or dying,
All the winter lay.
Ah! my heart, my heart is throbbing,
Throbbing for the May ;
Throbbing for the sea side billows,
Or the water- wooing willows,.
Where, in laughter and in sobbing,
Glide the streams away.
50
Cora Lee.
Twas a lovely day in early spring,
When birds were fill'd with glee,
We stood in grief around the bed
Of dying Cora Lee.
CHORUS.
O Cora, sweet Cora ! how happy is thy rest,
For the angels have placed a crown upon thy brow
And taught thee the songs of the blest.
" I long to go," she softly said,
" And ever happy be
With Willie, who has gone before
Your dying Cora Lee."
Chorus. — O Cora, sweet Cora, &c.
" My lovely friends, oh, murmur not,
Nor grieve, nor pine for me ;
All will be well when angels call
For dying Cora Lee."
Chorus. — O Cora, sweet Cora, &c.
" At the close of day, when all is still
Oh ! come on bended knee,
And meekly pray that you may rest
With your poor Cora Lee."
Chorus. — O Cora, sweet Cora, &c.
" Bright angels now are hovering near,
Their fairy forms i see ;
Oh, farewell all, they're calling now
For your dying Cora Lee."
Chorus. — O, Cora, sweet Cora, &c.
Winter-"-Sleigli-Bell Song
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, clear the way,
'Tis the merry, merry sleigh,
As it swiftly glides along!
Hear the burst of happy song,
See the flying glances bright
Flashing o'er the pathway white ;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, how it whirls,
Crowded full of laughing boys and girls.
CHORUS.
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, jing,
How the merry, merry, merry, merry sleigh-bells ring ;
'Tis the merry, merry sleigh !
'Ti3 the merry, merry sleigh !
'Tis the merry, merry, merry, merry sleigh !
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, on they go,
Caps and bonnets white with snow,
At the faces swimming past,
Nodding through the fleecy blast ;
Not a single robe they fold
To protect them from the cold ;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle 'mid the storm,
Laughing, fun, and frolic keep them warm.
Chorus.— -Jingle, jingle, &c.
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, fast it flies,
Sending shafts from hooded eyes ;
Koguish archers, I'll be bound,
Little heeding who they wound ;
See them, with capricious pranks,
Plowing down the drifted banks ;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle 'mid their glee,
V»rho, among them, cares for me ?
Chorus. — JiDgle, jingle, &c.
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, down the hilig,
O'er the meadows, past the mills ;
Now 'tis slow, and now 'tis fast —
Winter will not always last ;
Every pleasure has its time,
Spring will come and stop the clime ;
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle, clear the waj
'Tis the merry, merry, merry sleigh*
Cfonu Jiogle, jingle, Ac
52
America.
, ^ ■ »■
My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing :
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain side,
Let freedom ring.
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble, free —
Thy name I love
I love the rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills ;
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees,
Sweet freedom's song :
Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.
Our fathers' God to thee,
Author of liberty,
To thee I sing ;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light ;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God our King.
53
Three Bells.
Come swell the strain, the proud refrain,
The signs of noble deeds ;
How true men brave, on ocean's wave
Win fame's most worthy meeds !
And high to-day, in grateful lay,
'Mid music's witching spells,
Let every lip bless that good ship.
Brave (Brighton's ship, Three Bells ■
Chorus. — Oh, the good ship, Three Bells !
Oh, the good ship, Three Bells!
With her sturdy crew,
And her captain true,
That man the good Three Bells !
When storms came down with blackest frown,
And woke the ocean's wrath ;
And one lost bark in tempest dark,
Lay in the mad wind's path ;
Heaven pleased to prove, that human love
In Albion bosom dwells,
Turn'd to that wreck, that death-swept deck,
Brave (Brighton's ship, Three Bells ;
Chorus. — Oh, the good ship, Three Bells, &c.
They work'd bf day, they work'd alway.
As brave tars only do ;
When from the wave they strive to save,
A sinking vessel's crew ;
A shout rose high, u all saved !" they cry,
Hark how the paean swells!
'Till earth's far bound rinsrs with the sound,
" God bless the ship. Three Bells !"
Chorus.— Oh, the good ship, Three Bells, Ac.
54
Graves of a Household.
They grew in beauty side by side,
They fill'd one home with glee ;
Their graves are sever'd far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea.
The same fond mother bent at night,
O'er each fair sleeping brow ;
She had each folded flower in sight,
Where are those dreamers now?
One midst the forest of the west
By a dark stream is laid ;
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.
The sea, the blue, lone sea hath one,
He lies where pearls lie deep ;
He was the loved of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.
One sleeps where southern vines are dress' d,
Above the noble slain ;
He wound his colors round his breast,
On a blood-red field of Spain.
And one — o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves by soft winds fann'd ;
She faded 'midst Italian flowers,
The last of that fair band.
And parted thus, they rest, who play'd
Beneath the same green tree ;
"Whose voices mingled, as they pray'd
Around one parent knee.
They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheer'd with song the hearth-
Alas! for loved, if thou art all,
And naught beyond, 0 earth.
My Mother's Bible.
This book ia all that's left me now !
Tears will unbidden start —
With falt'ring lip, and throbbing brow,
I press thee to my heart ;
For many generations past,
Here is our family tree ;
My mother's hand this Bible clasp'd,
She, dying, gave it me.
Ah ! well do I remember those,
Whose names these records bear,
Who round the hearthstone used to close
After the evening prayer,
And speak of what these pages said,
In tones my heart would thrill !
Though they are with the silent dead,
Here are they living still.
My father read this holy book,
To brothers, sisters dear,
IIow calm was my poor mother's loo£,
Who loved God's word to hear ■
Her angel face — I see it yet I
What thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the halls of home.
Thou truest friend man ever knew,
Thy constancy I've tried ;
Where all were false, I found thee true,
My counselor and guide ;
The mines of earth no treasure give
That could this volume buy :
tn teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.
56
The Farmer's Boy.
Oh, a farmer's boy is a jovial lad,
So healthy, bright and free,
(n his country home he is ever glad,
Oh, that is the home for me.
With a whoop, and a haw, to his lively team,
With the lark abroad is he ;
With his bread and milk unrobbed of cream,
Oh, that is the home for me.
REPEAT.
With his bread and milk unrobbed of cream,
Oh, that is the home for me.
m the morning bright he drives away,
Ere the morning sun we see,
The lowing herd to the silver stream,
And the pastures green and free ;
In the summer time, to the harvest field,
With a cooling drink we see,
Both the farmer's boy, and the farmer's girl,
Oh, that is the home for me.
Both the farmer's boy, &c.
When the autumn winds are sweeping wild,
He is gathering nuts you see,
for a winter stock he will lay them by,
For his sister, himself and me ;
To the orchard then he hies away,
For he knows each favorite tree,
And ke saves the fruit, for a coming friend,
Oh, that is the home for me.
And he save* the lrult» ^W
57
Come sit thee down.
Come sit thee clown, my bonny, bonny lass ;
Come sit thee down by me, love,
And I will tell thee many a tale
Of the dangers of the sea —
Of the perils of the deep, love,
Where the angry billows roar,
And the raging waters wildly dash
Upon the beaten shore.
Where the raging waters wildly dash
Upon the beaten shore.
CHORUS.
Come sit thee down, my bonny, bonny lass«,
Come sit thee down by me, love,
And I will tell thee many a tale
Of the dangers of the sea.
The stars are flaming red, my love,
The stars are flaming red, love,
And wildly rolls the tempest wave,
And re .rs its mountain head ;
The skies and ocean blending
Amid the howl ins blast,
The daring tar 'twist life and death,
Clings to the shattor'd mast,
The daring tar Vixt life and death,
Clings to the shattered mast.
Chorus. — Come sit thee down, &c
58
What other Name than
Thine, Mother.
What other name than thine, mother,
What other name than thine
Can bring to hearts bow'd down, mother,
A balm so like divine?
Chorus. — 'Tis like a beam of light, mother,
Our darksome way to cheer,
Dispelling gloom of night, motliert
And bringing gladness here.
What other voice than thine, mother,
What other voice than tnino
Can waft a magic spell, mother,
O'er sorrow's tearful shrine?
Chorus. — 'Tis like a beam of light, &c.
Thou'rt with us yet, but oh ! mother,
How long ere setting sun,
Shall shroud in gloom and night, mother,
A day so bright at noon ?
Chorus. — At morning when we kneel, mother,
Ascends an earnest plea ;
At evening's holy calm, mother,
A prayer ascends for thee.
Dost think that we neglect, mother,
To prize thy dearest name 1
Thou k no west not how warm, mother.
Is fire without a flame.
Chorus. — At morning when we kneel, &c.
50
I have no Mother now.
The midnight stars are gleaming
Upon her silent grave —
Now sleepeth without dreaming,
The friend we could not save.
The cloud of grief is heaping
Its shadows on my brow—
Oh, blame me not for weeping,
I have no mother now !
The cloud of grief, etc.
Yet not alone she lieth,
One angel child is there,
No more for him she sigheth,
For deatli has joined the pair.
Together sweetly sleeping,
Beneath the locust bough,—
Oh, blame me not for weeping,
I have no mother now!
Together sweetly sleeping, etc.
No mother now to bless me,
With love sincere and true,
No mother to carets me,
As she was wont to do.
No mother's grief is keeping
Its shadow on my brow,—
Oh, blame me not for weeping,
I have no mother now!
No mother's grief is keeping, etc.
Our Father-Land.
We'U ever sing of our father-land
Where dwells, a noble gallant band;
Columbia the name we love,
E'er de*r to us where'er we rove.
CHORUS.
jflien sing we on In praise of that noble band who freedom
won
In our own dear father-land,
In our own dear father-land, who freedom won
Jn our own dear father-land.
r
61
Be Kind to Each Other.
Be kind to each other,
The night's coming on,
When friend and when brother
Perchance may be gone ;
Then 'midst our dejection,
How sweet to have earn'd
The blest recollection
Of kindness return'd.
When day hath departed,
And memory keeps
Her watch broken-hearted,
Where all the loved sleep,
Let falsehood assail not,
Nor envy disprove,
Let trifles prevail not
Against those you love.
Nor change with to-morrow ;
Should fortune take wing—
The deeper the sorrow,
The closer the cling.
Be kind to each other,
The night's coming on,
When friend and when brother
Perchance may be gone.
The Home of the Heart.
'Tis home where e'er the heart is,
Where e'er its loved ones dwell,
In cities, or in cottages,
Throng'd haunts or mossy dell,
The heart's a rover ever,
And thus on wave and wild,
The maiden with her lover walks, #
The mothei*with her child.
'Tis bright where e'er the heart is,
Its fairy spell can bring
Fresh fountains to the wilderness,
CO
No tyrant's frown do we ever fear,
In our free land to us so dear ;
We laugh to scorn a kingly power,
For none but slaves to such will cower.
Chorus,— Then sing we on, etc.
Then pledge ye round with a manly brow,
To music's clear, harmonious flow:
And firmer to be the glorious stand
We take lor home and fat her -land.
Chorus.— Then sing we on, etc.
May Frovidence ever bless our land,
And still supply with plenteous hand ;'
Heaven watch and keep us in our might,
And make us walk in paths aright.
Chorus.— Then sing we on, etc.
Mary Aileen.
Lying by thy little grave, Mary Aileen,
One sweet word is all I crave, Mary Aileen!*
Wilt thou hear me in my woe?
Wilt thou answer soft and low ?
Canst thou speak a little ? no, Mary Aileen !
Chorus.— Mary Aileen! Mary Aileen!
Canst thou speak a little? no, Mary Aileen!
Midst the flowers now I'm speaking, Mary Aileen,
Canst thou hear my voice below, Mary Aileen?
Here till morning will I lie —
Here to- night I fain would die,
And to thee be ever nigh, Mary Aileen.
Chorus.— Mary Aileen, etc.
Every night upon thy grave, Mary Aileen*
Shall my tears the sweet hours lave, Mary Aileen t
I will whisper— "Art thou nine!''
Thou wilt answer— M Ever thine!"
Death but makes our love divine, Mary Aileen !
CHORUS,— Mary Aileen ! Mary Aileen!
Canst thou speak a little? no, Mary Aileen !
62
And to the desert spring.
Green isles are in the ocean,
O'er .which affection glides,
A haven on each sunny shore,
When love's the sun^that guides.
"lis free where e'er the heart is,
Nor chains, nor dungeons dim,
May check the mind's aspiring thought,
The spirit's pealing hymn.
The heart gives life its beaut}7,
Its glory and its power ;
Tis sunlight to its rippling stream,
And soft dew to its flowers.
Oil ! Scorn not thy Brother-
Oh ! scorn not thy brother,
Though poor he may be ;
He's bouncl to another,
A bright world with thee ;
Should sorrow assail him,
Give heed to his sighs,
Should strength ever fail him,
Oh ! help him to rise.
The pathway we're roaming,
'Mid flow'rets may lie,
But soon will life's gloaming
Come dark'ning our sky ;
Then seek not to smother
Kind feelings in thee —
Oh ! scorn not thy brother,
Though poor he may be.
Go, cheer those who languish
Their dead hopes among
In whose hearts stern anguish
Their harps have unstrung ;
They may soon in another
Bright land roam with thee,
Then scorn not thy brother,
Though poor he may be.
I Should n't like to tell.
'Twas early in the spring-time,
"When birds begin to mate,
That first I saw young Edward
Down by the garden-gate ;
Upon the evening si illness
His voice so sweetly fell —
The winning words he whisperM
I shouldn't like to tell!
In many a summer twilight
We stood together there,
And oh, the bright world never
To me, seem'd half so fair,
As wken, above the chiming
Of distant village bell, ,
I heard that loving story
I shouldn't like to tell!
Bright visions of the future
Our busy fancies wove,
As arm in arm together
We wander'd through the grore ;
The cuckoo's note was sounding
In copse and shady dell,
:\1 to the story
I ahould n't like to tell!
But there, one summer evening,
When stars were shining bright,
And the moon cast all around us
Her chai te and silver light.
Beneath a broad-leaved'd linden,
I yet remember well,
I gave a solemn promise
I should not like to tell.
No. 2
01
Mable Clare.
Brighter than the hues of morning,
Oh! how beautiful and fair,
Lovely as a moonlit evening,
Was our darling Mable Clare,
Chorus. — Oh! Mable is now with the blest,
She died in her youth's rosy bloom ;
We laid her down in the grave to rest,
And spread sweet flowers o'er the narrow tomb
Of gentle Mable Clare.
Happy smiles illumed each feature,
Brow unclouded, free from care,
What a dear, confiding creature
Was our darling Mable Clare.
Chorus. — Oh, Mable is now with the blest, &s.
Graceful as a winged creature,
Floating through the balmy air,
Pure and spotless as a seraph,
Was our darling Mable Clare.
Oiorus. — Oh, Mable is now with the blest, &c.
What to me are all life's pleasures,
All is sadness and despair,
Without thee my soul's dear treasure,
My own darling Mable Clare.
Chorus.—- Oh, Mable is now with the blest, &c.
Best in peace, then, till that morning
Dawns upon our raptured eyes ;
What a joyous, happy greeting
When we meet thee in the skies.
Chorus. — Oh, Mable is now with the blest, &c.
BEADLES
Song Book
No. 3.
A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPULAR
COM IG AND SENTMENTi I
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
NTKW YORK: U8 WILLIAJVl ST.
LONDON : 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S59,
By IRWIN P. BEADLE,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
8. B. No. Z.
CONTENTS No. 3.
PAGE.
Annie, dear, good-by, 8
Answer to Jeannette and Jeannot, • - - 57
A sailor's life for me, - 68
Bessy was a sailor's bride, 63
Bonny Jean, 6
Comic Katee darling, 23
Comic parody, ------ 25
Darling Jenny Bell, 54
Darling Rosabel, 9
Ettie May, 30
Few days, .41
Give 'em string and let 'em went, - 38
Go it while you're young, - - - - 38
Hail Columbia, W
Happy Hezekiah, 44
I'd choose to be a daisy, tf
I have something sweet to tell you, - - - 11
Isle of beauty, S3
I think of old Ireland wherever I go, - - - 13
Jeannette and Jeannot, 57
John Jones, *}1
Jordan is a hard road to travel, <U
Kitty, kimo, - 4*
Lager beer song, - - - -'- - - 3?
Lather and shave, - 41
Lillie Bell, 2<
Linda has departed, 1C
Man the life-boat*, 55
My dear old mother, 65
My girl with a calico dress, "• "'- 4C
My heart's in old Ireland, 1C
Mv poor dog Tray, 46
Old dog Tray, No. 2, 16
Old Rosin, the beau, 61
iV CONTENTS NO. 3.
PAGE.
Over the left, - 20
Parody on " To the West," - - - . - 27
Pop goes the weasel, - - - 39
Pretty Jane, - - 54
Rosa Lee, 17
Song of the locomotive, 35
Sparking Sarah Jane, - 22
Ten o'clock ; or, remember, Love, remember, - 47
The American boy, 14
The American girl, 12
The boys of Kilkenny, 49
The death of Annie Laurie, - - - • 7
The emigrant's farewell, - - - - - 50
The fine old Dutch gentleman, 19
The fine old English gentleman, - - - - 18
The fine old Irish gentleman, 19
The fireman's boy, 33
The fireman's death, 32
The girl I left behind me, 31
The gold-digger^ lament, 55
The Indian hunter, 29
The old oaken bucket, 52
The old whisky jug, 37
The other side of Jordan, 42
The pirate's serenade, 58
The yellow rose of Texas, 8
Tilda Horn, - - - 64
To the West, 26
True blue is the color for me, - - - 56
Uncle Ned, - 59
Unhappy Jeremiah, 44
Vilikins and his Dina ^ 24
We miss thee at home, ----- 29
What will Mrs. Grundy say ? 15
Woodman, spare that tree, 60
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK
No. 3.
I'd Choose to be a Daisy.
Copied by permission of Fikth, Po.vd & Co., 547 Broadway, owners
of the copyright.
I'd choose to be a daisy,
If I might be a flower,
My petals closing softly
At twilight's quiet hour,
And waking in the morning
When falls the early dew,
To welcome heaven's bright sunshine,
And heaven's bright tear- drops too.
Chorus. — I'd choose to be a daisy,
If I might be a flower,
My petals closing softly
At twilight's quiet hour.
I love the gentle Lily,
It looks so meek and fair,
But daisies I love better,
For they grow everywhere,
The lilies bloom so sadly,
In sunshine or in shower.
But daisies still look upward,
However dark the hour.
Chorus. — I'd choose to be a daisy, &c.
KO. ill. 1*
I
Bonny Jean.
Copied by permission of Firth, Poxd & Co., 547 Broadway, N. Y.
owners of the copyright.
Oh, the summer moon is brightly blowing,
The wild birds wake their song,
And the streamlet as it softly murmurs,
So gently glides along.
Where the sweet hedge-rose is blowing,
In the woodlands green,
There I love to wander,
With my heart's true queen —
My bonny, bonny Jean.
CHORUS.
Where the sweet hedge-rose is blowing-,
In the woodlands green,
There I love to wander,
With my heart's true queen.
Yet 'tis not the rosy tint of summer,
Nor the song-birds' joyous lay,
Nor the streamlet's murmuring music,
That makes my heart feel gay ;
Tia her smile that beams upon me,
'Mid each flowery scene,
While I fondly wander,
With my heart's true queen,
My bonny, bonny Jean.
Bonny Jean, your smile is always with me,
When absent, love, from thee ;
Making joy and sunshire rouad mj pathway
Wherever I may be.
May they ever beam upo-i me,
In this mortal scene,
While I fondly wander
With my heart's true quecv
My bonny, bonny JeAn.
The Death of Annie Laurie-
I sung, when in the Crimea,
My bonnie Annie's praise.
My heart then turn'd in exile,
To sweet Maxwelton's braes.
To sweet Maxwelton's braes,
But sweet nae mair for me,
For I hae seen wi1 anguish,
Their fairest blossom dee.
"When wars alarms were over,
I sought my loved ane's bower.
But death's cauld breath was blighting,
Blighting my bonnie flower.
Blighting my bonnie flower,
And I nae help could gie,
Oh, whv, when in the battle,
Did I na' fa' an1 dee.
I saw her cheek grow thinner,
Yet flush wi1 hectic's hue,
I mark'd her eVs strange brightness,
Those e'es o' darkest blue.
Those e'es o' darkest blue,
That beam'd sae saft on me,
When I cried my Annie Laurie,
I can na7 see thee dee.
Then calm as to nightly slumber,
She sank in my arms to rest,
An* the wild flowers o' spring now cumfe
The sod upon her breast.
The sod upon her breasf,
Oh, what wad I na' gie,
If beside my Annie Laurie
I could lay down an' dee.
The Yellow Rose of Texas.
Copied by permission of Fihth, Pond & Co., Mnsic Publishers^
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
There's a yellow rose in Texas that 1 am going to see,
No other darkey knows her, no darkey only me ;
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart
And if I ever find her, we never more will part.
CHORUS.
She's the sweetest rose of color this darkey ever knew,
Her eyes are bright asdiamonds,theysparkle like the dew,
You may talk about your " Dearest May," and sing of
" Rosa Lee,"
But the yellow rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee.
Where the Rio Grande is flowing, and the starry skies
are bright,
She walks along the river in the quiet summer night ;
She thinks if I remember, when we parted long ago,
I promised to come back again, and not to leave her so.
She's the sweetest rose of color, etc.
Oh, now I'm going to find her, for my heart is full of woe,
And we'll sing the song together ,that we sung so long ago,
We'll playthe banj o gayly,and we'll sing the songs of yoro
And the yellow rose of Texas shall be mine forever more.
Annie, dear, G-ood-by.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Son, Music Pub^Wiers,
543 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyrighi.
I'm leaning o'er the gate, Annie,
'Neath the cottage wall ;
The gray dawn breaks, the hour grows late,
I hear the trumpet's call ;
I could not brook thy cheek so pale,
The sad tear in thine eye —
This heart which laughs at war might quail,
So, Annie, dear, good-by.
This heart which laughs at war might quail,
So, Annie, dear, good-by.
Tm marching with the brave, Annie,
Far from home and thee,
To win renown, perhaps a grave —
A glorious one 'twill be !
But whatsoe'er the fate I meet,
To conquer or to die ,
This heart's last throb for thee will beat,
So, Annie, dear, good-by.
This heart's last throb for thee will beat,
So, Annie, dear, good-by.
Darling Rosabel.
Copied by permission of Ftbth, Pond & Co., Music Publisher!,
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Softly sigh the winds of evening,
Through the lone sequestered dell,
Where in calm and dreamless slumber,
Lies our darling Rosabel ;
Like a flower she bloomed in beauty,
, Shedding sweetness all around ;
Like a flower she drooped and faded,
When we laid her in the ground.
cnonrs.
Softly sigh the winds of evening,
Through the lone sequestered dell,
Where in calm and dreamless slumber,
Lies our darling Rosabel
Other flowers still bloom around us,
In our little native glen,
But so pure and fair a blossom
Never shall we see again ;
Fare thee well, thou loved and *ost one,
Thou art only gone before,
Where, ere long, we hope to meet thee.
Never to lose thee any more.
Softly sighs the wind, etc.
10
Linda has Departed.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & &o. Music Publishers
547, Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Death with his cold hand, hath robbed me of every hope,
Hath robbed me of every hope — my loved one is gone :
J*>leak was the moment, that parted our beating hearts —
That parted our beating heart's, and left me alone.
Sweet was the low voice, that wrapt me in fond delight,
That wrapt me in fond delight, as fair visions do ;
Soft were the dark eyes that languished in beauty bright,
That languished in beauty bright — how fondly and true !
Linda has departed, the warm and tender-hearted,
Linda has departed, and left me here to mourn.
Blest were the hours passed, with her whom my soul adored,
With her whom my soul adored, whose heart was so light ;
Sad is the lone hour, bereft of my darling one,
Bereft of my daring one, in darkness and night.
All now is cheerless, my joys now have passed away,
, My joys long have passed away, with love's fleeting years ;
I Hope hath no comfort for sadness now holdeth sway,
For sadness now holdeth sway, and leaves me in tears.
My Heart's in Old Ireland.
My bark on the billows dashed gloriously on,
And glad were the notes of the sailor-boj-'s song;
Yet sad was my bosom and bursting with woe,
For my heart's in old Ireland wherever I go,
Oh, my heart's in old Ireland wherever I go,
More dear than the flowers that Italy yields,
Are the red-breasted daisies that spangle thy fields.
The shamrock, the hawthorn, the white-blossom sloe,
My heart's in old Ireland wherever I go,
Oh, my heart's, etc.
The shores they look lovely, yet cheerless and vain,
Bloom the lilies of France, and the olives of Spain ;
When I think of the fields where the wild daisies gro*,
li'hen my heart's in old Ireland wherever I go,
Oh, my heart's, etc.
11
The lilies and ro?es abandon the plains,
Though the summer's gone by, still the shamrock rcmaini,
Like a friend in misfortune it blossoms o'er the snow,
For my heart's in old Ireland wherever I go,
Oh, my aeart's, etc,
I sigh and I vow, if e'er I get home,
No more from my dear native cottage I'll ronm ;
The harp shall resound, and the goblet shall flow,
For my heart's in old Ireland wherever I go,
Oh, my heart's, etc.
I Have Something Sweet
to Tell You.
I have something sweet to tell you, but the secret you must
keep,
And remember, if 't isn't right, " I'm talking in my sleep ;"
For I know I am but dreaming,
When I think your love is mine ;
And I know they are but seeming,
All the hopes that round me shine.
I have something sweet to tell you, but the secret you must
keep,
And remember, if it isnH right, " I'm talking in my sleep."
So remember when I tell you what I can no longer keep,
We are none of us responsible for what We say in sleep.
My pretty secret's coming !
Oh ! listen with your heart,
And you shall hear it humming;
Be close ! 'twill make you start.
I have something sweet to tell you, but the secret you must
keep,
And remember, if it isn't right, " I'm talking in my sleep."
Oh ! shut your eyes so earnest, or mine will wildly weep,
I love you ! I adore you ! but, " I'm talking in my sleep.''
For I know I am but dreaming,
When I think your love is mine ;
And I know they are but seeming,
All the hopes that round me shine.
I have something sweet to teil you, but the secret you muat
keep,
And remember, if it isn't right, " I'm ±*Jfcing in my sleep."
12
The American Girl.
Our hearts are with our native land,
Our song is for her glory ;
Her warriors' wreath is in our hand,
Our lips breathe out her story.
Her lofty hills and valleys green,
Are shining bright before us ;
And like a rainbow sign is seen
Her proud flag waving o'er us.
And there are smiles upon our lips
For those who meet her foemen,
For glory's star knows no eclipse,
When smiled upon by woman.
For those who brave the mighty deep,
And scorn the threat of danger.
We've smiles to cheer, and tears to weep
For every ocean ranger.
Our hearts are with our native land,
Our songs are for her freedom ;
Our prayers are for the gallant band
Who strike where honor leads them.
We love the taintless air we breathe,
'Tis freedom's endless power ;
We'll twine for him an endless wreath
Who scorns a tyrant's power.
They tell of France's beauties fair,
Of Italy's proud daughters,
Of Scotland's lasses, England's fair,
And nymphs of Shannon's waters.
We need not boast their haughty charmfc
Though lords around them hover,
Our glory lies in freedom's arms —
A Freeman for a lover !
13
I Tliixxk of Old Ireland
"wlierevex* I GJ-o.
I'm a wanderer, now, from the land of my birth,
Far away from the scenes I hold dearest on earth,
And I've seen both the beauties of the Nile and Arno,
Still I think of old Ireland, wherever I go.
CHORUS.
I think of old Ireland, across the blue wave,
I think of old Ireland, the land of the brave,
'Tis the home of the brave, where the wild shamrocks grow.
Oh, I think of old Ireland, wherever I go.
And 'tis soon I'll be home, in the land I love best,
In my own dearest Emerald Isle of the West,
Though now I am chasing the wild buffalo,
For I think of old Ireland wherever I go.
Vet though fir away from that dear blessed sod,
I still offer up prayers to my country's»G-od,
To chase from her borders the base Saxon foe,
For I think of old Ireland wherever I go.
Dear land of the shamrock, and sweet smelling brier,
Dear scenes of my childhood which never could tire,
When a boy I picked beech-nuts in wild Glenaboe,
Oh, I think of old Ireland, wherever I go.
And how oft have I drank out of Barranane's Well,
In whose clear waters there lurks a bright spell,
The afflicted go there to find ease for their woe,
For I think of old Ireland wherever I go.
And how oft have I swam in the Blackwater's tide,
And roam'd the sweet wild woods around Castle Hyde,
For it's through its wild woodland the Blackwaters flow,
Oh, I think of old Ireland wherever I go.
And how oft hav3 I sported through its pastures so g -een,
Where the wild fragrant daisy can always be seen,
For flowers in luxuriance there always do grow,
Oh, I think of old Ireland wherever 1 go.
But all my sad wanderings soon will be o'er,
And that isle of my heart I will never leave more,
Though deep is her sorrow, and bitter her woe,
Oh, rtimik of old Ireland wherever I go.
14
The American Boy.
-*~»~0-
" Father, look up and see that flag,
How gracefully it flies ;
Those prettj stripes — they seem to be
A rainbow in the skies."
" It is your country's flag, my son,
And proudly drinks the light,
O'er ocean's waves, in foreign climes,
A symbol of our might."
" Father, what fearful noise is that,
Like thundering of the clouds?
Why do the people wave their hats,
And rush along in crowds ?"
* It is the noise of cannon, ehild,
The glad shouts of the fre e ;
This is the day to memory dear —
Tis Freedom's Jubilee."
" I wish that I were now a man,
I'd fire my cannon too,
And cheer as loudly as the rest —
But, father, why don't.you?"
" I'm getting old and weak — but still
My heart is big with joy;
I've witness'd many a day like this—
Shout you aloud, my boy."
"Hurrah ! for Freedom's Jubilee i
God bless our native land !
And may I live to hold the sword
Of freedom in my hand !"
" Well done, my boy — grow up and lovef
The land that gave you birth ;
A home where Freedom loves to dwell,
A paradise on earth."
15
What TVill 3£rs. GS^nziicly
Say?
-*►•<•- —
Oh, fashion now is all the rage in houses, hoops, and dress ;
And each must do what others do — they dare not think of les3.
Mrs. Grundy is the queen of all mankind to-day ;
And each one thinks before she acts of — What will Grundy
say ?
Mr. Tompkins fail'd last fall, and is not worth a red,
But still he lives upon the u Fifth," and still holds up his head.
They keep their carriage all the same, though not a dime
they pay ;
They can't retrench a cent, for shame of — What wGuld
Grundy say ?
There's Mary Jane, she's tall and slim, a sack of bones
she's grown,
And brown as any Gipsy girl, and awkward as a clown ;
Yet she must wear her dresses low, and her thin neck display,
For 'tis the fashion ; and you know, What would Dame
Grundy say ?
There's Mrs. Jones, she's fifty-four, and still she curls her hair,
Although all know it is a wig the rain old dame doth wear,
She gives of balls, each season two, and wastes her irsalth
away ?
For she must do as others do, else, what would Grnndj say ?
There's fa& and atumpy Martha Ann, that weighs two hun-
dred pounds,
She's a bait to catch a man, but not a bite nas found.
And though she is so short and stout, she promenades
Broadway ;
Her skirts are thirty feet about, Oh, what will Grundy say?
There's shanghai coats and bad cigars, and Musard's new
cravats ;
There's paper collars and wristbands, and bell-crown'd,
small-brimm'd hats ;
For comfort, ease, and common-sense, must yield to fashion's
sway ;
For now the sole prevailing thought Is, what will Grundy saj*
16
Old Dog Tray.
JSo. 2.
The mornmg meal is past- — the next is coming fast—
'Twill bring me a bill that I know I can not pay,
For meats, boUi fat and lean, that I was jolly green
To trust beside that old dog Tray.
iDld dog Tray ! always hungry —
Meat can not drive him away ;
With his tail " druv" in behind, neither gentle nor yet kind
Is that hungry dog, that old dog Tray.
I hurried home one night, with a rousing appetite,
For nothing had I tasted the whole of that long day.
But Oh ! how I was done — not a thing was left but bone-
All eaten by that old dog Tray.
Old dog Tray, &c.
The steaks I thought my own, had vanished one by one —
Those cutlets, those chops too, had all pass'd away-,
./hose tenderloins were gone — they each and all hadflo^n— •
Stolen by that old dog Tray.
Old dog Tray, &e.
With naught to break my fast, my eyes on Tray I cast,
Who look'd as though he felt what my breaking heart
would say ;
But oh ! 'twas all deceit — 'twas he who stole my meat,
That hungry dog, that old dog Tray.
Old dog Tray, &c.
17
Rosa Lee.
When I lib'd in Tennessee, U li a li o la e,
I went courtin' Rosa Lee, U li a li o la e.
Eyes as dark as winter night
Lips as red as berry bright,
When first I did her wooing go,
She said, now don't be foolish, Joe ! U li a li o la e.
Courting down in Tennessee, U li a li o la e„
'Heath the wild Banana tree,
I said you lubly gal, dat's plain, U li a li o la e,
Breff as sweet as sugar cane, L* li a li o la e,
Feet as large and comely too,
Might make a cradle of each shoe,
Rosa take me for your beau,
She eaid, now don't be foolish, Joe! U li a li o la e.
Courtin down in Tennessee, &c.
My story yet is to be told, U li a li o la e,
Rosa catch'd a shocking cold, U li a li o la e.
Send de doctor, fetch de nurse,
Doctor came but make her worse,
I tried to make her laugh, but no,
She said, Xow don't be foolish, Joe, U li a li o la e.
Crurtin down in Tennessee, &c.
Dcy gib her up, no power could save, V li a li o la ©^
Che ax me follow to her grave, U li a li o la e. ,
I take her hand, 'twas cold as death,
So cold I hardly draw my breff,
She saw my tear in sorrow flow,
And said, Farewell, my dearest, Joe, U li a li o la «.
Rosa sleeps in Tennessee, &c.
18
The IPixie Old English.
GreiTtleixxan.
Ml sing you a good old song, made by a good old pate,
Wfa fine old English gentleman, who had an old estate ;
A nd -who kept up his old mansion at a bountiful old rate, '
"With a good old porter to relieve the old poor at the gate.
Like a fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time.
His hall, so old, was hung around with pikes, and guns, and bows,
And swords, and good old bucklers, which had stood against old foes,
And'^was here " his worship" sat in state, in doublet and trunk hose^
And quaff'd his cup of good old sack to warm his good old nose.
Like a fine old, &c.
"When winter old, brought frost and cold, he open'd house to all,
And though threescore and ten his years, he featly led the ball,
Nor was tie houseless wanderer e'er driven from his hall,
For while Le feasted all the great he ne'er forgot tho small.
Like a fine" old, &c.
But time, thoi^h sweet, is strong in flight, and years roird swiftly byt
And autumn's failing leaf proclaim'd, the old man — he must die !
He laid him dofH rigSt tranquilly, gave up life's latest sigh,
And mournful frfrtfrdfl stood round his couch, and tears bedini'd each eye*
For the fine old, &c.
The Fine Old Irish
Gentleman.
I'll sing you a daoent so*»q; that was made by a Paddy's pate,
Of a raal ould Irish gintleiAa", who had a fine estate,
"Whose mansion it was made of mud, with thatch and all coraplat*,
With a hole at top, through "v/uch the smoke so graceful did ratrai*.
Hurrah for the ould Irish ginUeman, the boy of the oulden time.
Hia walls so could, were cover'd wM the devil a thing for show,
Except an ould shillelah, which LiatA knock'd down many a foe,
And there ould Barney sat at ease, ai*d without shoes or hose,
And quaff'd his noggin of poteen tcwrm hi? big red nose.
Like a fine ould Irish gintleman, the boy of the oulden time.
To Donnybrook his custom was to go to e^ery fair,
And though he'd seen a few score years, i:e tstill was young when thsrV
A.nd while the rich they feasted him, he still, amoirg ibe poor, [ro»A
Would sing, and dance, and hurl, and fight, a-nd n?aH< tk* epalpesna
Like a raal ould IrisL g^nttenwi, the boy of the oulden time.
10
But och, mavrone ! once at a row ould Earner got a knock,
And one that kilt him, 'cause he coal in't get o'er the shock,
Thej laid him out so beautiful, and then pet up a proanf
Och ! Barney, darlint, jewel dear, why did you die ? och. hone !
Then they waked this Irish gintleman, the boy of the oulden time.
Though all things in their course must change, and seasons pass away.
Yet Irish hearts of oulden time were just as at this day.
fich Irish boy he took a pride to prove himself a man,
To serve a friend and bate a foe, it always was the plan
Of a raal old Irish gintleman, the boy of the oulden ti
Tlie Fine Old I3utch.
Grentlexnaxi.
I'll sing you now a Dietchen song 'bout Ilans Von Krouple-
gheet,
Vot keept a la^er bier saloon up in de Bowery shtreet,
He eat de shwinepeefe,shpeek,un slough,un efery kind of meat,
Un I shvear in.it mine goot grashus, pon top de people, so
much as a barrel of sourcrout, un two puchels of
lager bier, efery morning he would eat !
He vas a line old Dietchen shentlemen Ton of the pestest
kind.
By de fireshtove in his bier saloon efery morning he uoold
shtand,
Mit a bottle of schnapps down by his side, un a glass up in
his hand,
Un by himself he trinks dis toast, " Ich lieben die Vaderland,"
Un midout you could Dietsche yershter, for he yold nix Eng-
lish gasprochen yen he'd say, " Spechlebecks von-
grossen-dunder un blitzeu nut-de-swimegrahdle
skipoupens-die-dobbleshm," you couldn't nix un-
derstand.
Dis fine old Dietchen shentlcman, von of de goot olt kind.
His nose yas red ash a beetle, yaw, by dunder, dat ish drue,
His mouth pout fourdeen inches wide, his eyes vcre black
ash plue.
He pelongs mit de Freesangerbund, un he yas a Turner too,
Un politics makes him nix difference, but yen you comes mit
de Maine liquors law to dakc avay his lager bier,
den, py dam, dat yas someding new,
To dis fine old Dietchen shentleman, yon of de pestest
kind.
20
Dis fine old Dietcben shentlemen he rent to bed drunk efery
night,
Un somedimes Ten dere Tas coming rount elections, mit da
udder fellers he'd fight,
Un slouck dem on de koup mit a double-barrel'd powie knife,.
but I don't tink dat ras rite,
For yen Tun of dem peeples haf his head preak'd into his
nose all ofer his face, un Tas nearly drownded mit
a big stick, I tell you somedings rite aTay shust
now dat Tas a sorry sight,
To dis fine old Dietchen shentleman, Ton of de goot olt
kind.
But Ton time dere corned some droupleSj un he fight mit all
his main,
Dough he vas kilt Ton two ash six eight couple of times, he
shumps up un fites again,
Dill his hed Tas all splitted open down pack, un den de
blood comes down like rain;
Un py and py come dere de coroner mit de shury, un sit
on him apout dwenty-two hours ash tree-quarters, un
shqueeze all de preth out of his pody, den dey prings
in a verdigrass, Tot he dies from prandy and vaier on
de prain,
Does dis fine old Dietchen shentleman, de subject of dis
song.
Over tlie LefiU
I am thine in thy gladness,
I am thine in thy tears, '
My love, it can change not
In absence or years.
Were a dungeon thy dwelling,
My home it should be,
Its gloom would be sunshine,
Were I but with thee.
For life has no beauty
Of thee, love, bereft.
I am thine, and thine only,
THINE OYER THE LEFT.
21
John Jones,
A PARODY ON BEN BOLT.
^h, don't you remember Lame Sally, John Jones.
Lame Sally -whose nose was so brown,
\Vho look'd like a clam if you gave her a smile,
And went into fits at your frown.
In the old goose pond in the orchard, John Jones
Where the goslins are learning to swim,
Lame Sally went fishing one wet, windy day,
And, by a mistake, fell in.
Under old Simmon's brush fence, John Jones,
That winds at the foot of the hill,
Together we've seen the old mare go,
Grinding cider at Appleton's mill.
The mill-wheel is oven wood now, John Jones,
The rafters fell on to a cow,
And the weasels and rats that crawl round as you gaze,
Are lords of the cider mill now.
Do you mind the pig-pen of logs, John Jones,
Which stood on the path to the barn,
And the shirt-button tree, where they grow on the bough,
Which we sewed on our jackets with yarn.
The pig-pen has gone to decay, John Jones,
The lightning the tree overcome,
And down where the onions and carrots once grew,
Grows thistles as big as your thumb.
There is a change in the things I love, John Jones,
They have changed from the good to the bad,
And I feel in my stomach, to tell the truth,
Td like to go home to my dad.
Twelve months, twenty has pass'd, John Jones,
Since I knock'd off your nose with a rail,
And yet I believe I am your only true friend,
John Jones, of the Hurricane Gale.
22
Spax\b±rig* Saa?ali •Jane.
-«^«^
Sitting on the sofa, leaning on my breast,
Is a lovely maiden, perfectly at rest ;
Listening to my love vows, sighing very plain ;
Bless me this is pleasant, sparking Sarah Jane.
Chorus. — Bless me ain't it pleasantj
Bless me ain't it pleasant,
Bless me ain't it pleasant,
Sparking Sarah Jane ?
Gentle words are spoken, kisses sweet we give,
Tows to love each other long as we do live ;
Vows to be as happy as the running rill,
Never getting angry : do you think I will ?
Bad is getting squeamish, shakes his head in doubt,
Ma looks on and wonders what her gal's about,
Thinks there'll be a weddin' — guesses that's no sin,
But somehow or another hopes I've got the tin.
Daddy he's consented, mamma can't say no,
Sonny kinder likes it, sissy wants a show,
Now begins the bustle, now begins the fun,
Every one is ready, shopping must be done.
Carriage stands awaiting, Where'll you please to g(
Drive us up to Stewart's, see what he can show
Troubling all the merchants, buying here and there,
Beating down the prices — Are you sure 'twill wear'
Hurry up the dresses, cut them very low,
Make them large and airy where the hoops do goy
Trying on the bodice, trying on the capes,
Keep your fingers moving, cause its getting late.
Sewing in the chamber, stitching in the hall,
Servants in the kitchen, fixing for the ball ;
Every one is busy 'cepting Jane and I,
Do you know the reason — shall I tell you why?
Sitting on the sofa, leaning on my breast,
Is a lovely maiden, perfectly at rest ;
Listening to my love vows, sighing very pWn,
Bless me this is pleasanf, sparking Sarah Jane.
23
Comic Klatee Darlings
Oh, they tell me you are fast asleep, my darling,
That thy jolly red nose I can not now behold,
Don't believe that I am tight, Katee Darling,
Because I am singing here to you all in the cold.
Oh, you know not the loving,
Of the hearts of Erin's sons,
When a good hot whiskey toddy, Katee Darling,
Is the goal to the race that he runs.
Oh, wake np, sweet Katee,
For tne gas lights are burning, Katee Darling,
The little birds are singing on each tree,
Will you never leave off snoring, Katee Darling,
Or know that I am crying here for thee ?
I am standing Dy tny window, Katee Darling,
This night is a cold night for me.
Oh, don't you hear me yelling, Katee Darling,
Behold I am singing here for thee.
Methinks I see a policeman,
By yonder shining light,
And he'll put me in the lock-up Katee, Darling,
If he catches me here serenading to-night.
Then listen, dear Katee,
For the wild flowers are sleeping, Katee Darling,
And the police are looking round for me,
Will you never more hoist your window, Katee Darling,
For see, I'm waiting for thee ?
Tis useless all my weeping, Katee Darling,
But I wish to goodness now you were my bride,
And I'd give two shillings directly, Katee Darling,
If I were only by your side.
Oh, a great big coat I'm wearing,
And I scarce can heave a sigh,
But I'll never leave off drinking, Katee Darling,
Every day that I can get it till I die.
Then hear me, sweet Katee,
The policeman now has got me, Katee Darling,
And no one knows when I'll again be free ;
n the lonely Tombs come and greet me, Katee Darling
For there Til be waiting for thee.
24
"Vilikins and. His Dinah I
-*~*^-
'Tis of a rich merchant who in London did dwell.
He had but one daughter, anunkimmon nice young gal;
Her name — it was Dinah, scarce sixteen years old,
With a very large fortune in silver and gold.
Singing, to la lol la rol lall to ral lal la.
As Dinah was a valiking the garden one day,
Her papa he came to her, and thus he did say,
" Go dress yourself, Dinah, in georgeous array,
And take yourself a husiband, both galliant and gay."
Singing, &c.
"Oh papa, oh papa, I've not made up my mind,
And to marry just yet, why I don't feel inclined;
To you my large fortune I'll gladly give o'er,
If you'll let me live single a year or two more"
Singing, &c.
" Go, go, boldest daughter," the parient replied,
" If you won't consent to be this here young man's bride<
I'll give j'pur large forttne to the nearest of kin,
And you shan't reap the benefit of one single pin."
Singing, &c.
As Vilikins was valiking the garden around,
He spied his dear Dinah lying dead upon the ground,
And the cup of cold pison, it lay by her side,
With a billet-doux a stating, 'twas by pison she died.
Singing, &c.
He kiss'd her cold corpus a thousand times o'er,
And call'd her his Dinah though she was no more,
Then swallow' d the pison like a lovyer so brave,
And Vilikins and his Dinah lie both in one grave.
■ Singing, &c.
Now all you young maidens take warning by her,
Xever not by no means disobey your guverner ;
And all you young fellows, mind who you clasp eyes on,
Think of Villikins and his Dinah and the cup of cold pison*
Singing &c.
35
Comic Parody.
'Tis of a rich Dutchman in Xiew York did lire ;
He had von fine daughter you petter pelieve ;
Her name vas Katarina, so fair ash a rose,
Un she had a large fortune in the hands of old Mose.
Ash Katarina vas drawing de lager bier von day,
Her fader coined to her, un das he do say ;
4 'Hurry up, Katarina! de parlor go to,
A customer raits to go riding mit you."
" Oh, fader, vy don't dey some oder ghel find,
To ride mit dem fellers? I don't feel inclined;
De vay day drives de buggy, it makes me feel veak,
Un I vants to get married mit Hans Dunder next veek."
Den her fader got mad un he shvear his " gott dam !"
She never must marry mit any young man.
''If you love dis Hans Dunder, you may go take his bags,
Hit his hooks, un his paskets, un go gadder rags."
Katarina now back to de kitchen she ran,
Saying, 4' I'll eat up mine preakfast so fast vot I can ;
Den I'll dravel avay, ash I can't been his vife ; n
But dat vas de vay dat she losed her life !
For as she vas eating a big, Bolony sassage,
Itshtick't in her troat, un it shtopM up de passage ;
She- tried for to breath, but by greef ofercome.
Her head it reel'd round, un she fallM very dumb.
Now -Hans Dunder he happen'd to valk in the door,
lie seed his Katarina lying dead on the floor ;
- age vas lying by her side,
Saja llan^ " I pe tarn, ' tvas mit this ting she died."
More-Ale !
N"ow all you young vummins, votefer you do,
Don't let dat Hans Dunder shpeak somedings mit you,
Un ail you young fellers, ven you courts in de passage,
Dink of Hans un Katarina un de big Bolony sassage.
2(5
To tlie "West I
(fo the West I to the West ! to the land of the fro*,
'Where the mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea ;
Where a man is a man, if he is willing to toil,
And the humblest may gather the fruits of the soil ;
Where children are blessings, and he who hath most,
Has aid to his fortune, and riches to boast ;
Where the young may exult, and the aged may rest,
Away , far away, to the land of the West
CHORUS.
To the West ! to the West ! to the land of the free,
^here the mighty Missouri rolls down to the sea ;
Where the young may exult, and the aged may rest,
Away, far away, to the land of the West.
To the West ! to the West ! where the rivers that flow,
Run thousands of miles, sparkling out as they go ;
Where the green waring forests shall echo our caK,
As wide as old England, and free to us all ;
Where the prairies, like seas where the billows have roll'4.
Are broad as the kingdoms and empires of old ;
And the lakes are oceans in storms or in rest —
Away, far away, to the land of the West.
To the West ! to the West, &c.
To the West ! to the West ! there is wealth to be won ;
A forest to clear is the work to be done ;
We'll try it — we'll do it — and never despair,
While there's light in the sunshine, or life in the air;
The bold independence that labor shall buy,
Shall strengthen our hearts, and forbid us to sigh ;
Away, far away, let us hope for the best,
For a home is a home, in the land of the West.
To the West ! to the West, Ac.
27
5?aj>Vly on To tlie "West I
Vo the West ! to the "West, I once went, do you see,
And one visit, I'm sure, was sufficient for me ;
Oh, the thing? that I saw there, they frighten' d me quite,
And ever silica then, sirs, I've scarcely been right.
-»Iy children got sick every day, sirs, almost,
And my wife tock the chills, and got deaf as a post ;
Oh, there's some may exult, but for me, sirs, I'm bless'd
If I haven't as much as I want of the West
To tho West ! to the West, &c.
To the West ! to the West! where the rivers that flow,
Are full of great big alligators, you know ;
Where the snakes in the forest make you feel precious queer,
And you don't see a bar-room not twice in a year.
And if 'cross the prairie you happen to go,
You're sure to be toss'd by some wild buffalo *
Where the lakes are like children — they're nevor *Z rest,
Ton my word, sirs, I soon had enough of the WesC^
To the West to the West, &c.
At the West they told me there was wealth to bo won,
The forest to clear, was the work to be done ;
I tried it — couldn't do it — guv it up in despair,
And just see if you'll ever again catch me there.
The little snug farm I expected to buy,
I quickly discovered was just all in my eye ;
I came back like a streak — you may go — but I'm bfr- %
U you'll ever again, sirs, catch me at the Wo«t.
To tho West ! to the West, &c.
28
Lillie Bell.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, owners
of the copyright.
On the grave near massa's dwelling,
You remember, darkies, well,
Stands a stone, so silent, telling
Where sleeps gentle Lillie Bell ;
Where, in spring, the tall bananas
To the winds their branches ware,
Guarding well from every danger
Gentle Lillie's lonely grave.
CHORUS.
Oh, Lillie ! long-lost Lillie I
To thy grave amid the dell
Our hearts are sadly turning,
Gentle Lillie, Lillie Bell.
Oh ! darkies, how my heart is yearning,
Once to see that grave again ;
Memory backward quickly turning,
Frees my breast from present pain.
But those days have gone forever —
Lost beneath life's angry wave ;
I weep no more ; my heart is buried
With my Lillie in her grave.
Chorus. — Oh, Lillie ! &c.
'Twas last eve I saw her beckon,
Far up in the azure sky,
Bidding me to quickly hasten
To her new-found home on high.
Then, darkies, take me quickly, take me
Where the tall bananas wave ;
For my heart will cease its sighing
Near my Lillie's lonely grave.
Chorns, — Oh, Lillie ! &c.
29
We Miss Thee at Home.
We miss thee at home, yes, we miss thee,
Since the hour we bade thee adieu ;
And prayers have encircled thy pathway,
From anxious hearts loving and true,
That the Savior would guide and protect thee,
As far from the loved ones you roam,
And whisper, whene'er thou wert saddened,
" They miss thee, all miss thee at home."
When morning awakes us from slumber,
We catch from the lips the first kiss,
And fold in a wandering zephyr,
To be wafted to him whom we miss ;
And when we have joined the "home circle,"
And replaced the still vacant chair,
In each eye rose the gathering tear-drop,
For him we were wont to see there.
The shadows of evening are falling —
Oh, where is the wanderer now ?
The breeze that floats lightly around me,
Perchance may soon visit his brow ;
Oh, bear on thy bosom a message,
We are watching, oh, why wilt thou roam ?
The heart has grown sad and dejected,
For we miss thee, all miss thee at home.
The Indian Hunter.
Let me go to my home in the far distant West,
To the scenes of my youth, that I like the best;
Where the tall cedars are, and the bright waters flow,
Where my parents will greet me — white man, let me go,
Let me go to the spot where the cataract plays,
Where oft I have sported in my boyish days ;
There is my poor mother, whose heart will overflow
At the sight of her child — oh, there let me go.
Let me go to the hills and the valleys so fair,
Where oft I have breathed my own mountain air;
And where through the forest, with quiver and bow,
I have chased the wild deer — oh, there let me go.
30
Let me go to my father, by whose valiant side,
I have sported so oft in the height of my pride,
And exulted to conquer the insolent foe —
To my father, that chieftain — oh, there let me go,
And, oh, let me go to my dark-eyed maid,
Who taught me to love beneath the willow shade ;
Whose heart's like the fawn's, and as pure as the sl,o^,
And she loves her dear Indian — to her let me go.
And, oh, let me go to my fair forest home,
And never again will I wish to roam ;
And there let my body in ashes lie low —
To that scene in the forest, white man, let me go.
Ettie May.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Son, Music Publiaiieri,
543 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
In beauty gleamed the moon last night,
And brightly star lamps shone,
The wind among the linden trees
Made music sad and lone ;
The shadows of the firelight danced
Like sprites upon the floor,
As moon and star ray gently fell,
Around the cottage door ;
With breathings hushed we sat around
The couch where Ettie lay,
And wept that one so beautiful,
So soon must pass away.
She wore within her golden hair
A mesh of changeful light,
And mingled with her dark eyes' sheen
Were spirit's gleams last night ;
Upon their light and viewless wings,
The angel s^downward came,
And stole within the cottage door,
And quenched our love-light flame ;
So quiet were her slumbers sweet '
On yester eventide,
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping, when she died.
31
Tlie Grix-1 I left beliixid 3X©e
I'm lonesome since I cross'd the hills
And o'er the moor that's sedgy ;
With heavy thoughts my mind is fill'd,
Since I parted with Peggy.
Whene'er I turn to view the place,
The tears doth fall and blind me,
When I think on the charming grac*
Of the girl I left behind me.
Tho hours I remember well,
When next to see doth move me,
The burning flames my heart doth tei,
Since first she own'd she loved me.
In search of wme one fair and gay,
Several doth remind me ;
I know my darling loves me well,
Though I left her behind me.
The bees shall lavish, rbAke no store,
And the dove become a ranger,
The fallen water cease to roar,
Before Til ever change her.
Each mutual promise faithful made,
By her whose tears doth blind ms,
And bless the hours I pass away,
With the girl I left behind me.
Mt mind her image full retains,
Whether asleep or awaken'd;
I hope to see my jewel again,
Tor her my heart is breaking.
But if ever x do go that way,
And she has not resign' d me,
Til reconcile my mind and stay
With the girl I left behind iae.
32
The Fireman's Death.
He slept, and o'er his dauntless brow
A shade of sorrow stole,
As though some scene of deep distress,
Was busy with his soul.
When suddenly the dread alarm,
Came ringing shrill and clear,
Cleaving the night air, till it struck
Upon his startled ear.
CHORUS.
He bounded up:*his practised eye,
Was turn'd upon the lurid sky,
Lit by the flames, which mounting higher.
Soon clothed the night in a robe of fire.
With lightning speed ho reach'd the scene-^
Oh ! what a sight was there !
A mother stood amid the flames,
And shriek'd in wild despair !
Her arms around her frighten'd babe
Where thrown with frenzied clasp,
As though she fear'd the fire-fiend
Would tear it from her grasp.
With helmet turn'd, through fire and smoke,
The gallant fellow fearless broke ;
He saved them both, but ah ! his life
Was lost in the unequal strife.
Now in sweet Greenwood's peaceful shade
The noble hero sleeps,
And o'er his grave full many a friend,
In silent sorrow sweeps,
A monument erected there
Is pointed to with pride
5y those with whom he ofteu fought
The fire, side by side,
Swset flow'rs exhale their fragrant breath,
Where now he, peaceful sleeps in death
And tress their, spreading branches wav? \
Above his solemn Greenwood graven
33
The Fireman's Boy.
■ — -*o^-
Mother, look out and see that light —
How red it makes the Bky ;
Oh, 'tis a grand though fearful sijjht I
See how the bnght sparks fly !
It is a house on fir©, ray eon, —
An agonizing sight ;
It serves to make more deep the gloom
That haunts my soul to-night.
Mother, what dreadful noise is that,
"Which thunders o'er the pave ?
"Who are those men in pretty capa
And shirts of red, so brave ?
'Tit the heavy engines, son, that make
The deafening noise you hear ;
Those gallant men with pretty hata
Are firemen brave, my dear.
Oh, were my father but alive,
Would you not, mother, try
To make him be a fireman too ?
But, ah ! why do you cry ?
I would not chill the sunny glow .
That nestles in thy breast, j
Nor have thy little heart to know
The pangs which mine opp'reaa. ,
Xay, mother, pray confide to me
The griefs which wring thy heaci;
I'm sure I do not wish to be
More happy than thou art.
God bless thee, boy ; I can but ween.
Yet 'tis with mingled joy,
To think how like thy father's self
Thou art, my noble boy !
He was a fireman, gallant, brave,
As ever grasp' d a robe ;
A nobler heart ne'er beat to save
The sufferer void of hobe.
One stormy night, the deep-toned bell,
The firemen summon'd forth
To duty ; but, alas ! he fell,
My dearest hope on earth.
He fearless rush'd through smoke and flaaae
To save a hapless child,
Whose fearful screanja he heard amid
The din and storm so wild.
No. 3 2
34
His brave companions brought bim forth,
And many a manly tear
Coursed down their blacken'd cheeks,
And fell upon a fireman's bier.
'Mid Greenwood's consecrated bloom,
The drooping willow weeps
Its dewy tear, beside the tomb
Where thy brave father sleeps.
Oh, 'twere a noble death to die I
My heart swells big with pride !
And though I weep, yet proud am I
To think how father died.
I wish that I were but a man,
In firemen's rig I'd dress ;
" Hurrah, my boys, don't lag !" I'd shoot
As loudly as the rest.
What though I met my father's fate ?
I am sure I could not die
In nobler cause, nor half so great :
But, mother, do not cry.
God bless thee, boy ! and ever may
Untarnish'd be thy name ;
Let cowards skulk, crave thou a way
That leads to endless fame.
Tis winter now, but when the spring
Returns, my boy shall go
With me where wild birds sweetly ging^
And fragrant flowers grow.
To-morrow I will give thee seed
Of flowers choice to save ;
And when we go to Greenwood, plant
Them round the fireman's grave.
I grieve to see thee, mother, look
So very pale and worn ;
I would I could restore the rose
Grief from thy cheek has torn.
How often, when ho lovingly,
You kis.s me in my bed,
I cry myself to sleep, and dream
I see my 99 other dead.
Ikit my heart shall bless the fireman,
And sacred hold his name ,
It proudly should emblazon' d be
Upon the scroll of fame.
35
Song- of" the Locomotive,
Beware ! beware ! for I come in my might,
With a scream and a scowl of scorn ;
With a speed like the mountain eagle's flight,
When he rides the breeze of morn.
Avaunt ! avaunt ! for I heed you not,
Nor pause for the cry of pain ;
I rejoice o'er the slaughter my wheels have wrought,
And I laugh at the mangled slain.
Away — away — o'er valley, plain
I sweep by with a voice of wrath ;
In a fleecy cloud I wrap my train,
As I tread my iron path.
Hy bowels are fire, and my arm is steel,
"My breath is a rolling cloud :
And my voice peels out as I onward wheel,
Like the thunder rolling loud.
All day, all day, do my sinews play,
When the sun's bright rays are cast ;
At the midnight hour I fly on my way,
Like a death-fiend howling past.
I bear the wealth of a thousand climes,
The spoils of a briny sea,
The produce of lands where the church-bells chiae,
And the gold of the dark CafFree.
I roar on the beach of the roaring deep,
Where the sea-shells touch my wheels ;
Through the desert land with a howl I sweep,
And the yellow harvest fields.
I speed through the city's busy streets,
W here the thronging crowds are found.
Who fly at the sound of my iron feet,
Like the hare at the baying hound.
I traverse the regions of burning heat,
The Equator hears my scream ;
And I breathe the silence of winter's retreat.
Where the glittering snow-fields gleam.
The wild beasts fly when my voice they hear
Through the sounding forest ring,
And the sons of men stand mute with fear,
Of earth I am the king. —
36
Lager Biex* Song-.
*>*+.
Kow, ladies and gentlemen, just in time,
Chorus — Swilly, willy, wink um boom,
To come and listen to mine rhyme,
Glwrus — Swilly, willy, wink um boom.
My clothes is made of cash-e-mere,
Chorus — Swilly, willy, winkum, hire a saw,
By dam, I likes mine lager bier,
Chorus — Swilly, willy, winkum boom.
Vhorus. — Ri tu re an na, tu re an na,
Swilly, willy, winkum, hire a saw,
Ri tu re an na, tu re an na,
Swilly, willy, winkum boom.
One Dutchman he goes down for to Hetzel's,
He call'd for lager bier and pretzels ;
Young Hetzel brings the man his lager,
He says, "My son, I pay your fader."
Now dis Dutchman was one very big bear,
He call'd for brote and Switzer kase;
And when he did his Switzer gizzle,
He thought that it was time for to mizzle.
De barkeeper say, " Pay for your rum."
And den dat Dutchman tried to run ;
De barkeeper let dat Dutchman fall,
You ought to hear dat Dutchman squall.
Dis Dutchman he begins and blows,
And de barkeeper hit him one in de nos«,
He say, " Why don't you pay your grub?"
And he ramm'd his head in a big slop-tub.
Dey took dat Dutchman to his frow,
And she called him one drunken sow ;
Dat Dutchman he did eȣse and dam,
And she broke his head mit a big tin pan.
They sent out for one cow doctor,
And he said, " Mine very dear Dutch sir,
Of all de sick men you is de vurst,
You drink so much bier, by dam, you burst/
Dey took dat Dutchman up to bed,
By dam, dat Dutchman he go dead ;
Dey took and cut him up in slats,
Dey said he'd be good to poison rats.
And now, good folks, my song is done,
I hope dat I've offended none;
We lay our lager on de shelf,
If you want any more, you may sing it yourself
37
m^ - v I
The Old ^Whiskey Jrig.
We're anchor' d by the. roadside, Jim,
Where oft we've sat before.
When you and I were .weary, Jim,
When we were half seas-o'er ;
When the bright full moon in splendor, Jim,
Shone down on you and I,
And the little stars kept winkin', Jim,
As we drank the old jug dry.
Ah! those were happy days, Jim,
Those good old days of yore —
When Koekwood kept the tavern, Jim,
And Potter own'd the store ;
When whiskey ran as freely, Jim.
As water in the brook,
And good men for their stomach's sake
Their morning bitters took.
But times have changed since then, Jim,
And men have alter'd, too —
And some have undertaken, Jim,
To put rumsellers through :
They say that whiskey's poison, Jim,
And many graves has dug :
That scores of snakes and devils, Jim,
Are in our good old jug.
Who cares for all such prattle, Jim,
To them it may be sense —
We'll lay when we're a mind to, Jim,
Beneath the old rail fence ;
This stuff they call cold water, Jim,
Won't do for you and I ;
We'll pull the cork at leisure, Jim,
And drink the old jug dry;
38
Grive 5em String- and, let 5em
Went.
Life is but a span of hors
One is Age, the other Prime ;
Up and down the hill our course is:
" Go in, ponies, make your time.
Boyhood flies the whip of pleasure,
Youthful folly gives a stroke ;
Manhood goads them at his leisure ;
u Let 'em rip — they'e tough as oak."
" Hi, yo ! there : the stakes we'll pocket ;
To the winds let them be sent :
Time : 2 40 — whip in socket :
Give 'em string and let 'em went."
On the sunny road to fifty,
Prime is drown'd in Lethe's stream;
Age is left old and unthrifty ;
Life then proves a " one horse team."
Age jogs on, grows quite unsteady,
Reels and slackens in his pace,
Kicks the bucket, always ready,
Gives it up — Death wins the race.
Gro it >vttile Yon9x*e Young--
■*»-©-•-
Money's scarce they say, and very well wo know it,
Then 'surely the best way, is while you're young to go it ;
The banks are all flat broke, their rags are good for naught,
The specie's all bespoke, then certainly you ought to —
Go it while you're young,
For when you're old you canHy
Let scandal hold her tongue
And bid dull care avaunt.
Now single men get wives, the States may soldiers need,
There's plenty to be had, if parties are agreed :
Learn them all to shoot, to them it will be sport,
Say you're fathers fought before, then certainly you ought t#—
Go it while you're young, &c.
Youth's the time for pleasure, life is but a span,
Gavety's a treasure, seize it while you can,
Old men couldn't go it, were they to be hung,
Tbair looks and actions show it — then
Go it while you're young, &c.
39
Pop Goes tlie Weasel.
Queen Victoria is very sick,
Napoleon's got the measles,
Sebastopol's nut taken yet ;
Pop goes the weasel ,
CHORUS.
All around the cobbler's bench,
The monkey chased the weasel
The priest, he kiss'd the cobbler's wife ;
Pop went the weasel.
A penny for a ball of thread,
A penny for a needle,
That's the way the money goes ;
Pop goes the weasel.
All around, &c.
My wife, she is awful sick,
The baby's got the measles,
Sally's got the hooping-cough ;
Pop goes the weasel.
All around &c.
Johnny Bull, he makes his brag,
lie can whip the whole creation,
Why don't he take Sebastopol,
By Pop goes the weasel.
All around, &c.
Mayor Wood has put the rumsellers through.
The Maine Law's a sad evil,
We cannot get our toddy now ;
Pop goes the weasel.
All around, &c.
40
Lather and Shave.
It was in this city, not far from this spot,
Where a barber he opened a snug little shop ;
He was silent and sad, but his smile was so sweet,
That he pulled every body right out of the street.
With his lather and shave 'em, lathar and shave en>
Lather and shave em, frizzle 'em bum-
One horrid bad custom he thought he would stop,
That no one for credit should come to hia shop ;
So he got him a razor full of notches and rust,
To shave the poor devils who come there for trust.
With his lather and shave, &c.
One day a poof Irishman passed by that way,
Whose beard had been growing for many a day ;
He looked at the barber, and he put down his hod,
" Will you trust me a shave for the pure love o' God r*
With your lather and shave, &c.
»« Walk in," sayg the barber, " sit down in that chair,
ril soon mow your beard off right down to a hair."
So his lather he spread over Paddy's big chin,
And with his "trust" razor to shave did begin.
With his lather and shave, &c.
" Och, murder I" says Paddy, " now what are you doin* r
Leave off wid yer tricks, or my jaws you will ruin,
Faith, now how would you like to be shaved wid a saw ?
Be the powers, you'll pull every tooth out o' me jaw."
With your lather and shave, kc.
" Sit still," says the barber, " and don't make a din,
With your moving your jaws, I'll be cutting your chin."
" Not cut but sawed, och, that razor you've got,
Sure it wouldn't cut butter, if it wasn't made hot.
With your lather and shave, &c.
" Now lave off yer tricks, and don't shave any more,"
And Paddy he bolted etraight out of the door,
Crying, " Ye may lather and shave all yer friends till j%i adL
But, be jabers, I'd rather be shaved wid a brick."
With your lather and shave, &c.
Not Jong after that Pat was passing the door,
When a jackass he set up a terrible roar ;
** Och murther," says Paddy, " jist list to yon knava,
He'a given tome poor divil a 'love o' God shave.' ■
With his lather and shave, &c
41
Few Days.
This world is coming to an end, few days — few days
I'll eraek iny shins, my jacket rend — I'm gwine home !
I'm gwine to run clear out of sight, few days — few days ;
And leave these naughty diggins quite ; Fm gwine home !
CHORUS.
For I've got a home out yonder, few days — few days !
I've got a home out yonder, in old Tennessee.
And I can't stay in these diggins, few days — few days !
Can't stay in these diggins, I'm gwine home.
They tell about Maine Liquor Law, few days — few days ;
It makes the folks get drunk the more ; I'm gwine home.
Xebraska's gwine to be a State, few days — few days,-
Cuba too will come in late ; I'm gwine home.
For I've got a home out yonder, &c.
Everything is done by steam, few days — few days ;
Leather taffy, chalk ice-cream — I'm gwine home.
Boys wears beards, and women too, few days — few days ;
Though all things change there's nothing new, I'm gwine
home.
For I've got a home out yonder, &c.
The Shanglnii fowls, how tall they grow, few days — few days,
That people can not hear them crow; Fm gwine home.
When guano's put on gudgeon's tails, few days — few days;
They grow to be as big as whales ; I'm gwine home.
For I've got a home out yonder, &c.
There's sin and folly everywhere, few days — few days ;
Enough to make old satan Stare : I'm gwine home.
I'll sing my parting song once more, few days — few days ;
Ajid then I'll pass o'er Jordan's shore ; I'm gwine home.
For I've got a home out yonder, kc
42-
Tlie OtXiex* Side of .Jordan*
David had a banjo, and be kept it strung,
And he 'ranged the music aecordin' —
Then he play'd a tune, call'd " Go it while you 're young/'
And they dance it on t'other side of Jordan.
So I pull'd off my coat, and roll'd up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble ;
So I pull'd off my coat, and roll'd up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble I b'lievc.
David and Goliah, they went out to fight,
Old Father Miller went out to part 'em ;
He up with a stone, hit David on the shin,
And it landed on t'other side of Jordan.
Den pull off your coat, &c.
The M. P's came, and they took 'em up,
But the Mayor gave them their pardon ;
They both shook hands and said they'd agree,
And settle on the other side of Jordan.
Den pull off your coat, &c.
Oh, de Cod-Fish Question, it made a mighty talk,
'Twas a subject that we nebber said a word on,
But when John Bull got sassy, de Yankees made him walk,
And day drobe him to the other side of Jordan.
So I pull'd off my coat, &c.
Dere's Poor Uncle Tom, and de Old Folks at Home,
Am de songs dat all ob you hab heard on,
But the greatest song ob all, dat will hab the greatest run,
Is de song about de other side of Jordan.
So I pull'd off my coat &c.
43
Joi'dan is a Hard Road to
Travel.
Of all the banjo songs that have been sung of late,
There is none that is now so often calFd on,
As the one I sing myself, and appHr it to the times,
It's called u0n the Other Side of Jordan."
CHORUS.
So I pull'd off my coat, and roll'd up my sleeve,
Jordan's a hard road to trabble ;
So I pull'd of my coat and roll'd up my sleeve,
Jordon's a hard road to trabble, I believe.
Ar»und the Crystal Palace there are a great many showg,
Where all the country greenhorns are drawn in —
There are snakes and alligators, mammoth mules and big
'taters,
That were raised on the other side of Jordan.
The Sovereign of the Seas, she went to Liverpool,
In less than fourteen days, too, according
Johnny Bull he wiped his eyes, and looked with surprise,
At this clipper from the Yankee side of Jordan.
The ladies of England have sent a big address
About slavery, and all its horrors, aecordin',
■They had better look at home, to their own white slaves,
That are starving on the English side of Jordan.
f hey have got a bearded lady down at Barnum's show,
And lots of pictures outside, aecordin'
) take her eye-laches for a pair of mustaches,
For to trabble on the other side of Jordan.
The Duchess of Sutherland, she keeps the Stafford House,
The place where the "Hack Swan' is boardin;
At a musical party, they ask'd for a BQDg,
And she gave them — On the other side of Jordan,
Our great father, Washington, he was a mighty man,
And all the Yankees do their fighting aecordin',
Th.»y will raise the llag of freedom wherever they can,
Till they plant it on the other s^de of Jordan.
I take off my coat, &c.
I
44
TJixhappy Jeremiah,
I'd often heard of married life, of pleasures without equal,
•So 1 resolved to take a wife, but only mark the sequel.
tJat while my sorrow^ I relate, don't try to raise niy ire,
For oh, I've often cursed the fate of unhappy Jeremiah,
I courted Jane, the milliner, her parents were my betters,
But soon I had enough of her, when fast bound in wedlock fetters.
For we had a boarder of our own, a man she did admire,
And oft with him she'd be alone in spite of Jeremiah.
Remonstrating was all in vain, she'd always be my master,
And if I tried to stop her tongue, 'twas sure to run the faster.
One day she ask'i this man to tea, she told me to retire,
I left her sitting on his knee, what a treat for Jeremiah I
Now we had two children of our own, and oft I had to mind 'em,
And when she walk'd with other men, I had to walk behind 'em.
But what is more to my disgrace, oh, lord, I feel on fire,
The children didn't look in'the face a bit like Jeremiah.
Oh, I'd been to work quite hard one day, when to my home returning^
I found my wife had ran away, and all my offers spurning.
Of reason I was near bereft, folks thought I would expire,
For oh, she took the goods and left the brats for Jeremia
Happy Hezekiali.
Old Jeremiah you have heard so eft relate his troubles,
He told that married life was nothing but a bubble.
Now to confute this calumny, it is my heart's desire,
So list you while I sing the luck of happy Hezekiah.
My wife she was no milliner, or any other trade, sir.
But was what I ne'er blush to own, a charming serrant-maid, sir.
i courted her, 'twas in a house, where she used to build the Ires,
A.nd I've ne'er had cause to curse the day she first was Hezekiah'*
I ne'er hav cause for jealousy, I neveer take home codgers,
And what is more, I ne'er take in any single young men loi^aat*
I always do go home to tea, then draw up to the fire,
My wife she reads, or mends the coat of happy Hezekiah.
My wife and I we ne'er fall out, we love each othei dearly,
And of affections 'tis a fact, a pledge is sent us yearly.
And what adds more unto the joy, which a parent should inspire
The children are the image of their father, Hezekiah.
We four dear ohildren now have got, and do expect another,
Vhe boys myself I do bring up, the girls I leave to their mother.
Thus with the children and my wife, my own, ray lovod Sophia,
Ho pleasantly doth pass the life of happy Hezekiah.
45
M!y Grix»l with tlxe Calico
Dress.
A f\z for your upper-ten girls,
With their velvets, and satins, and laces,
Their diamonds, and rubies, and pearls,
And their milliner figures and faces !
They may shine at a party or ball,
Emblazon' d with half they possess,
But give me in place of them all,
My girl with the calico di -
She is plump as a partridge, and fair
As the rose in its earliest bloom ;
Her teeth will with ivory compare,
And her breath with the clover perfume.
Her step is as free and as light,
As the fawns whom the hunters hard press.
And her eyes are as soft and as bright,
My girl with the calico dress.
Your dandies and foplings may sneer,
At her simple and modest attire,
J3ut the charm she permits to appear,
Would set the whole iceberg on fire !
t>be can dance — but she never allows
The hugging, the squeeze, and caress,
She is saving all these for her spouse,
My girl with the calico dress.
£he is cheerful, warm-hearted, and true,
And kind to her father and mother ;
She studies how much she can do
For her sweet t'tle sister and brother.
If you want a companion for life,
To comfort, enliven, and bless,
£he is just the right sort for a wife,
My girl with the calico dress,
46
My Poor Dog Tray.
On the green banks of Shannon, when Shelah was nlgli,
No blythe Irish lad was so happy as I,
No harp like my own eould so cheerily play,
And wherever I went, was my poor dog Tray.
When, at last, I was forced from my Shelah to part, •
She said — while the sorrow was big in her heart, —
"Oh, remember your Shelah, when far, far away,
And be kind, my dear Pat, to my poor dog Tray."
Poor dog, he was faithful and kind, to be sure ;
And he constantly loved me, although I was poor,
When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away.
I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.
When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold,
And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,
How snugly we slept in my old cat of gray,
And he lick'd me for kindness — my poor dog Tray.
Though my wallet was scant, I rememberM his case,
Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face ;
But ke died at my feet on a cold winter's day,
And I play'd a lament for my poor dog Tray.
Where now shall I go — poor, forsaken, and blind?
Can I find one to guide me so faithful and kind ?
To my sweet native village so $£, far away,
I can ne'er more return with my poor dog Traj.
47
Ten o'clock; or5 Remem-
ber? Love., Remember,
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, owner*
of the copyright.
'Twas ten o'clock one moonlight nrght,
I ever shall remember,
When every star shone twinkling bright
In frosty dark December ;
When at the window, tap, tap, tap,
I heard a certain well-known rap,
And with these words most clear,
" Remember, ten o'clock, my dear,
Remember, love, remember."
My mother dozed before the fire,
My dad his pipe was smoking,
I dare not for a word retire,
And was not that provoking 1
At length the old folks fell asleep,
I then my promised word to keep,
And for his absence did denote,
He on the window shutters wrote,
" Remember, love, remember."
And did I heed a treat so sweet ?
Oh, yes ! and mark the warning,
He said at church we were to meet,
At ten o'clock next morning ;
And then we meet no more to part,
To twine for ever hand and heart ;
And since that day in wedlock join'd,
The window shutters bring to mind,
" Remember, love, remember. "
48
Xiitty Kimo.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Sox, 3-13 Broadway, N. Y.
Owners of the copyright.
Da* was a frog lived in a spring,
Sing song, Polly, won't you ki' rae, oh ?
He had such a cold dat he could not sing,
Sing song, Polly, won't you ki' me, oh ?
I pull'd him out and frow'd him on de ground,
Sing song, Polly, won't you ki' me, oh ?
Old frog he bounced and run around,
Sing song, Polly, won't you ki' me, oh ?
CHORUS.
Camo kimo, daro, war, my high, my ho, my rumsti-ptrm«
stididdle,
Soot bag, pidly-winckem, linck 'em, nip cat,
Sing song, Polly, won't you ki' me, oh ?
Hilk in de dairy, nine days old,
* Sing song, kc.
Rate and skippers are getting bold,
Sing song, &c.
A long-tail'd rat in a bucket of souse,
Sing song, &c.
Just come from de white folks' house,
Sing song, &c.
In South Carolina the niggers grow,
Sing song, &c.
If de white man only plant his too
Sing song, &c.
Water de ground with 'bacca smoke.
Sing song, &c.
And up de nigger's head will poke,
Sing song, &c.
Way down South — in Cedar-street.
Sing song, &c.
Dar's where de niggers grow ten feet,
Sing song, &c.
Dey go to bed, but 'taint no use,
Sing song, &c.
I)ar feet hang out for a chicken's roost.
Sing song, &c.
49
The Boys of Kilkenny.
Oh, the boys of Kilkenny are brave roaring blades,
And if ever they meet with the nice little maids,
They'll kiss them and coax them, and spend their
money free,
Of all the towns in Ireland, Kilkenny for me.
In the town of Kilkenny there runs a clear strame,
In the town of Kilkenny there lives a'pretty dame,
Her lips are like roses and her mouth much the
same.
Like a dish of fresh strawberries smothered in
crame.
Her eyes are as black as Kilkenny's large coal,
Which through my poor bosom has burnt a large
hole ;
Her mind, like its river, Is mild, clear, and pure,
But her heart is more hard than its marble I'm
sure.
Kilkenny's a pretty town and shines where it stands.
And the more I think of it the more my heart
warms ;
If I was at Kilkenny, I should then be at home,
For there I got sweethearts but here can get none.
I'll build my love a castle on Kilkenny's free
ground ;
Neither lords, dukes, nor squires shall e'er pull it
down ;
And if any one should ask you to tell him my
name,
I am an Irish exile, and from Kilkenny I came.
50
The Emigrant's JFa,:revreIL
Pra leaving you at last, Mary, and all I love behind,
But sure 'tis for your sake I go, a better land to find ;
I go to that young isle, Mary, where anger is unknown,
And thfe children of our widow'd land are cherish'd as her
Perhaps in after years I'll come, unchanged to you again,
And if I win a golden store, I'll not forget you then.
The peasant's lowly lot, Mary, I would not have you share,
Altho' I'm sure you'd bear with me life's sorrows anywhere.
How happy I had been, Mary, in all that nature will'd,
Mv cabin by the mountain side, and the ground my father
till'd.
But the landlord with the bailiff came, the poor man's bitter
foe,
And he cast me out to lire or die, as God should will it so.
I would not live in Ireland now, for she's a fallen land,
And the tyrant's heel on her neck, with her reeking
blood-stain'd hand.
Th 's not a foot of Irish ground, but's trodden down by
slaves,
Wrho die unwept, and then are flung, like dogs, into their
grave?.
My troubles make me grieve, Mary, and I often wish to die,
And I long to find the green churchyard where all my
kindred lie.
Tis pleasant when the heart is broke, to sleep beneath ths
dust,
Dut I still hope on for better days, and place in God my trust,
V\:\ leaving you, my Mary dear, they're painful words to
speak,
My last embrace I'm taking now, and my lips are on youi
check.
The parting hour is drawing near, and the sails wave in th*
wind,
Oh, fold me closer to your breast, I'll leave you soon behind
51
Hail Columbia.
flail Celumbi.% happy land ! hail, ye heroes, heaven-born ba»d ;
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
"Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
And when the storm of war -was gone, enjoyed the peace your valor
won.
Let independence hi our boast, ever mindful what it cost ;
Ever grateful for the prize, let its altar reach the skies.
chorus.
Firm, united, let us be, rallying round our liberty ;
As a baud of brothers joined, peace and safety we shall find.
Immortal patriots, rise once more, defend your rights, defend your
shore.
Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
Invade the shrine where sacred lies, of toil and blood the well-earned
prize.
While offering peace sincere and just, in heaven we place a manly trust,
That truth and justice will prevail, and every shame of bondage fail,
* Firm, united, let us be, &c.
Sound, sound the trump of fame ! let Washington's great name
Ring through the world with loud applause,
Ring through the world with loud applause,
Let every clime to Freedom dear, listen with a joyful ear.
With equal skill and God-like-power, he govern'd in the fearful hour,
Of horrid war! or guide*, with ease, the happier times of honest peace.
Firm united let us be, &c
Beliold the chief who now commands, again t» serve his country
Btands —
The rock on which the storm will beat,
The rock on which the storm will beat ;
Jut armed in virtue firm and true, his hopes are fix'd on Ileaven and
you.
When hope waa sinking In dismay, and glooms obscured Columbia's
B4i steady mind, from changes free, resolved on death or liberty.
Firm united let us be, &e.
52
The Old Oaken Bucket
whicli Hung in tfa.e "W^ell.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection recalls them to view —
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood,
And every loved spot which my infancy knew ;
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it,
The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell,
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket —
The moss-cover'd bucket, which hung in the well.
That moss-cover'd vessel I hail as a treasure.
For often, at noon, when return' d from the field,
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield ;
IIow ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing
And quick to the whit* -pebbled bottom it fell, *
Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well-
The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket —
The moss-cover'd bucket arose from the well.
How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
As poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips :
Not a full-blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
Though fill'd *ith the nectar that Jupiter sips.
And now far removed from the loved situation,
The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
As fancy revisits my father's plantation,
And sighs for the bucket which hangs in his well—
The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket —
The moss-cover'd bucket which hangs in his well—
53
Man tile Life Boat*
Man the life boat! man the life boat!
Help ! or you ship i.a lost ;
Man the life boat, man the fife boat,
See how she's tempest-toss* d ;
No human power in such an hour,
The gallant bark can save,
Her mainmast's gone, and hurrying on,
She seeks a watery grave.
Man the life boat! man the life boat!
See the dreadful signal tlies ;
Ha ! she has struck, and from the rock
Despairing shouts arise ;
And one there stands and wrings his hands,
Amidst the tempest wild,
For on the beach he can not reach,
He sees his wife and child.
Life-saving ark! yon doomed bark
Immortal souls doth bear,
Not gems, nor gold, nor wealth untold,
But men, brave men, are there !
Oh, rpeed the life boat, speed the life boat,
U God! their efforts crown!
She dashes on — the ship is gon*
Full forty fathoms down.
Ah, see ! the crew are struggling now,
Amidst the billows roar,
They're in the boat, they're all afloat,
Hurrah ! they've gain'd the shore,
Bless the life boat, bless the life boat!
Oh, thou'lt hear our prayer,
Bless the life boat, bless the life boat!
No longer we'll despair.
54
Pretty Jane.
My pretty Jane, my pretty Jane,
Ah ! never look so shy,
But meet me in the evening,
While the bloom, the bloom is on the rye.
The spring is waning fast, my love,
The corn is in the ear,
The summer nights are coming, love,
The moon shines bright and clear.
Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane,
Oh, never look so shy,
But meet me, meet me in the evening,
When the bloom, the bloom is on the rye.
But name the day, the wedding-day,
And I will buy the ring,
The lads and maids in favors white,
And the Tillage bells, the village bells shall ring.
The spring is waning fast, my love,
The corr. is in the ear,
The summer nights are coming, love,
The moon shines bright and clear.
Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane,
Ah, never look so shy,
But mee . me, meet me in the evening,
While Jhe bloom, the bloom is on the rye.
Da rling Jenny Bell.
The days are ■ mie, when this poor darkey must weep,
For the one hat he used to love best,
Who now lies isleep, in the dark grave so deep,
And the sw it flowers bloom o'er her breast.
She's g ae to that laud where the bright spirits go,
She*i £one far away to dwell ;
Shall I ever see the smile again
Of n ' darling Jenny Bell?
. remember 1 e day when we walk'd side by side,
Away dowi in old Tennessee,
Twas there I at I promised to make her my bride,
As we sat ; meath the old-pine tree ;
But m f she has gone to that bright land above,
In J r and freedom to dwell,
Sb&L never see the smile again
Qf i y darling Jenny Bell?
55
Now I'm left all alone in this wide world to roam,
'Midst the throng of the happy and free,
And not one left to love, as that one who has gone,
And now sleeps beneath the old pine-tree;
But there is a land where the good darkeys go,
I heard sweet Jenny once tell,
I'll see you in that happy land above,
My darling Jenny Bell.
The Gold Digger's Lament.
I am going far away from my creditors just now,
I ain't got the tin to pay 'em, and they're kicking up % row ;
There'sthe sheriff running after me with pockets full or" writs,
And mytailor's vowing vengeance, he swearshe'll give me fits.
There's no room for speculation, and the mines ain'l worth
a flam,
And I ain't one of those lucky coves that works for Uncle Sam;
Whichever way I turn I am sure to meet a dun,
<4 So I think the best thing I can do, is just to cut and run."
I wish those " tarnal critters" that wrote home about the
gold,
Was ii^ the place the Scriptures say is never very cold ;
They told you of the heaps of dust and lumps so very big,
But they never said a single word how hard you had to dig.
I went up to the mines and help'd to turn a stream,
Got tru>ted on the strength of that delusive golden dream ;
But when the river was turn'd, we found it would not do,
And we who damm'd the river our creditors did sue.
I an. going far away, but I don't know where I'll go,
'Twoot do to turn homeward now, they'd laugh at me I kjow.
old them when I left, I was going to make a pile.
But if they could only see me now I rather guess they'd
srniie.
If of these United States I was the President,
Nc man who owed another should ever pay a cent ;
AlU he who dunn'd another should be banish'd far away,
For attention to the pretty girls is all a man should pay.
56
TVixe Blue is the Color
fox* J>Xe.
There are fifty fine colors that flaunt and flare,
All pleasant and gay to see,
But of all the fine colors that dance in the air,
True Blue's the color for me.
True Blue is the color of good true lore,
For it melts in woman's eye,
True Blue is the color of heaven abore,
For it beams in the azure sky
True Blue is the vest that Nature free
Has spread round the joyous earth,
True Blue is the hue of the dancing sea,
As it gave to beauty birth.
True Blue, it flows in the soft blue rein
Of a bosom that's fair and true,
As the violet, soften'd by heaven's own rain,
Is tinged with the heavenly hue.
True Blue, it is seen in the distant vale,
Where the fond hearts love to roam,
It curls in the smoke from the shelter'd dale,
As it guides the wanderer home.
True Blue hangs glorious over the wave,
From a thousand ships unfurl'd,
It clothes the breast of the Yankees brav*,
As they bear it round the world.
And when the skies grow dark, and wild winds yell.
If he sees but a streak of blue,
The steersman is glad, for he knows all's well,
And his guardian angel's true.
Then let all the fine colors flaunt and flare
All pleasant and gay to see,
True Blue's the color alone to wear,
True Blue's the color for me.
57
Jeannette and Jeannot.
fou are going far away, far away from poor Jeannette,
rhere is no one left to love me now, and you, too, may forget;
But my heart will be with you, wherever you may go,
Dan you look me in the face and say the same, Jeannot?
When you wear the jacket red and the beautiful cockade,
3h ! I fear that you'll forget all the promises you made ;
With a gun upon your shoulder and your bayonet by your side,
You'll be taking some fair lady and be making her Vour bride.
You'll be taking, kc.
)r, when glory leads the way, you'll be madly rushing on,
S'ever thinking if they kill you that my happiness is gone ;
f you win the day, perhaps a general you'll be,
rhough I'm proud to think of that, what will become of me?
)h ! if I were queen of France, or still better pope of Rome,
'd have no fighting men abroad, no weeping maids at home;
Ul the world"be at peace, or if kings must snow their might,
rYhy let them who make the quarrels be the only men to fight
Yes, let them, kc.
The Answer.
}heer up ! cheer up ! my own Jeannette, though far away I go,
n all the changes I may see, I'll be the same Jeannot;"
Ind if I win both fame and £old, ah ! be not so unkind,
ro think I could forget you in the home I leave behind,
there's not a lady in the land, and if she were a queen,
"ould win my heart from you, Jeannette, so true as you have
been ;
rhey must have gallant warriors, chance has cast the lot on me,
Jut," mind you, that this soldier, love, must no deserter be.
l>ut, mind, «fcc.
Why, since the world began, the surest road to fame, „
las been the field where men unknown might win themselves
a name.
Lnd well I know the brightest eyes have all the brighter shone.
fhen looking at some warrior bold return'd from battles won.
nd you'd put an end to deeds which ladies love so well,
nd have no tales of valor left for history to tell ;
he soldier's is a noble trade, Jeannette," then rail no morft-
Texe only kings themselves to fight, there'd be an end to war.
Were only
58
The Pirate's Serenade-
Come, love, come, away with me,
My bark is on the glossy sea ;
The moon is bright, on ocean's breast,
All, save the Pirate, are now at rest.
See how she rides the crested foam,
To bear thee, love, to the Pirate's home ;
Then fly, love, fly, do not delay,
We must be gone before to-morrow's day.
Come, love, come, etc.
I dare not stay on this hallow'd land,
I must away to my pirate band ;
They restless sit, all side by side,
To hail thee, love, as the Pirate's Bride.
Come, love, come, etc.
Though my voice is rough — oh ! do not start,
For true and soft is the Pirate's heart.
Thy home shall be on some fairy land,
And thou wilt be Queen of the Pirate's band.
Come, love, come. etc.
Come, love, come — ah ! why that stern brow —
She smiles, who so happy as the pirate now.
My arms will bear thee to " that thing of life, '
And this night thou must be the Pirate's Wife.
.A. Sailor's Life for IVEe,
A home on the rolling deep —
A life on the boundless sea !
Where the waters never sleep —
A sailor's life for me !
Some dwell upon the land,
And say they love its hills,
Its grassy vales, its woods and dales,
And its gently murmuring rills.
5<J
-
But gi*'e mo the ocean's roar —
The restless, rolling sea ;
I love not the listless shore —
A sailor's life for me !
My foot on a linn-set plank ;
Then let the wild wind shout —
I love to sweep o'er the foaming deep,
"When the tempest-king is out.
Some love to list while the ladies sing,
Amid the festive crowd —
I love the music of the wind,
As it whistles through the shroud.
Some love to urge the courser's speed,
Swift as the wind to flee —
Hurrah ! for a ride o'er the rushing tide 1
A race with the angry sea !
Oh ! this is the life of the brave ;
And this is the place of the free —
A life on the ocean wave —
A grave in the dark blue sea !
Uncle Ned.
I once new a darkey, and his name was Uncle Ned,
Oh, he died long ago — long ago ;
He had no hair on the top of his head,
The place where the wool ought to grow.
cironus.
Lay down the shovel and the hoe,
Hang up the fiddie and the bow ;
For no more work for poor old Ned,
He's gone where the good darkeys go.
His fingers, were long, like the cane in tie bra> \
And he had no eyes for to see j
He had no teeth for to eat de hoe cake,
So he had to let the hoe cake be.
One cold frosty morning old Ned died,
Oh, the tears down massa's face run like rain
For he knew when Ned was laid in the grouna
He'd nebber see his like again.
00
Woodman Spare that TFf ee«
Copied by permission of FiRTn, Po.vd & Co., 547 Broadw* >, N. Y.,
owners of the copyright.
Woodman, spare that tree
Touch not a single bough,
In youth it shelter' d me,
And I'll protect it now ;
'Twas my forefather's hand
That placed it near his cot ;
There, woodman, let it stand,
Thy ax shall harm it not.
That old familiar tree,
Whose glory and renown
Are spread o'er land and sea, —
And wouldst thou hack it dowa ?■
Woodman, forbear thy stroke !
Cut not its earth-bound ties;
Oh! spare that aged oak
Now towering to the skies!
When but an idle boy
I sought its grateful shade ;
In all their gushing joy,
Here, too, my sisters play'd.
My mother kiss'd me here ;
My father press' d my hand :
Forgive this foolish tear,
But let the old oak stand !
My heart-strings round thee cling,
Close as thy bark, old friend I
Here shall the wild birds sing,
And still thy branches bend.
Old tree ! the storms still brave !
And, woodman, leave the sp#t!
While I have hand to save,
Thy az shall harm it not.
61
Old. Rosin the Bcrvv.
I have travcl'd this wide world over,
And now to another I'll go.
I know that good quarters are waiting
To welcome old Rosin the Beau.
Chorus. — To welcome old Rosin the Bow,
To welcome old Rosin the Bow,
I know that good quarters are waiting
To welcome old Rosin the Bow.
When I'm dead and laid out on the counter,
A voice you will hear from below,
Whiskey and water,
To drink to old Rosin the Bow."1
T<> drink, kc.
And when I am dead, I reckon.
The ladies will all want to. I know,
Jast lift off the lid of the coffin,
And look at old Rosiu the Bow.
And look, fcc.
You must get some dozen good fellows,
And stand them all round in a row,
And drink out of half-gallon bottles,
To the name of old Ro-iu the Bow.
To the name, kc.
Get four or five joviai voumr fellows,
And let them all staggering go.
And dig a deep hole in the meadow,
And in it toss Rosin the Bow.
And in it, <fcc.
Then get you a couple of tombstones,
Place one at my head and my toe,
And do not fail I on it
The name of old Ro*in the Bow.
name, &c.
I feel the grim tyrant approaching,
That cruel implacable foe,
Who spares neither age nor condition,
Nor even old Rosin the Beau.
Xor even, &c.
**0. HI.
62
My Dear Old. Mother*
My dear old mother and I did part
When I was very young ;
Her memory still clings round my heart,
As charming visions roam.
They tell me of my mother's form —
She watched me while I slept,
And with her soft and gentle land
She wiped the tears I wept.
And that same hand that held my own
When I began to walk,
And the joys that sparkled in her eyes
When I began to talk i
I remember, too, when I was ill,
She kiss'd my burning brow ;
And the tears that fell upon my cheek
I think I feel them now.
And then she always knelt by me —
How gloomy was that day !
She put her hand up to her breast,
And taught me how to pray.
Oh ! mother, mother, in this breast,
Thy image still shall be,
And I will love thee to the .last,
And always think of thee.
Isle of Beauty.
Shades ot evening close not o'er us,
Leave our lonley bark awhile,
Morn, alas ! will not restore us,
Yonder dim and distant isle ;
Still my fancy can discover,
Sunny spots where friends may dwell,
Darker shadows round us hover,
Isle of beauty, fare thee well.
'Tis the honr when happy faces
Smile around the taper's light,
Who will fill our vacant places ?
Who will sing our songs to-night?
63
Through the mists that float above us
Faintly sounds the vesper bell ;
Like a voice from those who love us,
Breathing fondly, fare thee well.
When the waves are round me breaking,
As I pace the deck alone,
And my eye in vain is seeking
Some green leaf to rest upon :
What would I not give to wander,
Where my old companions dwell ;
Absence makes the heart grow fonder,
Isle of beauty, fare thee well !
Bessy Was a Sailor's Bride,
Poor Bessy was a sailor's bride,
And he was off to sea ;
Their only child was by her side,
And who so sad as she !
" Forget me not, forget me not,
When you are far from me,
And whatso'er poor Bessy's lot,
She will remember thee."
A twelvemonth scarce had pass'd away,
As it was told to me,
When Willie with a gladsome heart,
Came home again from sea.
He bounded up the craggy path,
And sought his cottage door,
But his poor wife and lovely child
Poor Willie saw no more.
■ Forget me not, forget me not"
The words rang in his ear ;
He ask'd the neighbors one by one,
Each answered with a tear.
They pointed to the old churchyard,
And there his youthful bride,
With the pretty child he loved to well,
Were resting side by side.
64
'Tilda Horn.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Sow, 543 Broadway, N. Y.%
owners of the copyright.
J was raised in Mississippi, where the sugar-cane grows tall,
And I loved a pretty yellow girl, much sweeter than them all.
J3he left the place one moonlight night — we sorrow'd much to
part ;
No token did she leave me, but her picture on my heart,
And I moan, and I groan, all alone, all alone.
CHORUS.
But fretting won't do for a darkey of this figure —
Time enough for that when he gits a little bigger ;
Dancing with the yellow girls, and shucking out the corn,
Will make him forget 'Tilda Horn.
While ago I got a letter from her, thinking, as I sat,
If I met her, how she'd like me, in my stylish Kossuth hat.
'Twas the last I heard about her, and since then I'm much in
dread
That's she's married to another man, or else she must " gone
dead."
In despair, I declare, I is crack'd, that's a fact
But fretting won't do, &c.
Now I go about, down in the mouth, and stockings down at heel;
Like Massa Shakspeare's Hamlet, too. I'm touch'd up here I feel.
His uncle gave him good advice — mine took my clothes in pawn ;
And all to raise the cash to dress — deceitful 'Tilda Horn.
Oh ! this wool I could pull, this poor heart is so full.
But fretting won't do, &c.
Since the Shakspere's coming in my head, I'm like Othello, too,
The victim of my jealous fears, I don't know what to do ;
Desdemona lost his handkerchief— that wasn't much to lose ;
But 'Tilda took my 'bacca-box, my shirts, and Sunday shoes,
Now I stray all the day, from'the gay far away.
But fretting won't do, &c.
BEADLE'S
Song Book
USTo. 4.
A COLLECTION OF XETT AND POPULAR
COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
NTSW YORK: 118 WTLLI.AJV1 SI,
LONDON : 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.
En'vued according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859,
By IRWIN P. BEADLE,
In tho ierk's Office oi the District Court »f the United SUUi
for the Southern District of New York.
8. B. No 4.
CONTENTS No. 4.
#
mum.
Ain't I glad to get out of the wilderness, • -22
A national song, 11
Answer of Katy Darling, ..... 41
A merry gipsy girl again, 47
A parody on " Uncle Sam's farm," • -49
Ben Fisher and wife, 9
Bonnie Jamie, --.-...17
Broken-hearted Tom, the lover, .... 39
By the sad sea- waves, - - - • • -58
Columbia rules the sea, 84
Come, gang awa' wi' me, - • - • - 13
Commence, you darkies all, .... 23
Cottage by the sea, --.--.. 8
Daylight is on the sea, 59
Don't you cry so, Norah, darling, - - - - 6
Erin is my home, ...... 31
Gal from the South, 27
He led her to the altar, .... 55
Home, sweet home, 52
I am a freeman, 62
I'll hang my harp on a willow tree, - • - 18
I'm not myself at all, 30
Indian hunter, - - - - . - • -50
I've been roaming o'er the prairie, 33
I wish he would decide, mamma, - • - - 82
Jane Monroe, 29
Johnny is gone for a soldier, 19
Jolly Jack, the rover, 23
Kate was once a little girl, - GO
Kitty Tyrrel, 61
Let me kiss him for his mother, • - - - 48
Linda's gone to Baltimore, 15
Maud Adair and I,- - - • • • -5
Molly Bawn, 61
iv contents n$. 4.
TAWS.
My ain fireside, 54
My boyhood's home, ---... 53
Norah, the pride of Kildare, 51
Oh, God, preserve the mariner, 46
Oh, kiss, but never tell, ------ 33
Old uncle fcdward, 64
Paddy on the canal, - 37
Poor old maids, ------ - 45
Ship, a-hoy, ...56
Somebody's courting somebody, 24
Song of Blanche Alpen, - - 57
Song of the farmer, ---..- 40
Sparking Sunday night, 42
Sprig of Shillelah, 43
Stand by the flag, 26
Terry O'Reilly, 40
The farmer's boy, 36
The hazel dell, 52
The harp that once through Tara's halls, - - 31
The Indian warrior's grave, .... 50
The little low room where I courted my wife, - 25
The low-backed car, 44
The old brown cot, 12
The old kirk-yard, ------ 54
The railroad engineer's song, 14
They don't wish me at home, ... 38
Tom Brown, - - - 21
Uncle Gabriel, -45
Uncle Tim, the toper, 16
We are all so fond of kissing, 20
We are growing old together, .... 7
We were boys and girls together, 49
Within a mile of Edinboro' town, - - - - 62
Would I were a boy again, ----- 35
Would I were a girl again, 35
Would I were with you, _ 63
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK.
NO. 4r.
* • I »
Maud Adair and I.
Copied br permission of Firth, Pond k Co., 547 Broodwaj, <^oers
of the copyright.
One year ago were we sixteen,
Maud Adair and I,
With lightsome tread we tript the green,
Maud Adair and I ;
But Maud Adair is lying low,
She left poor me three moons ago ;
We ne'er shall meet again below,
Maud Adair and I.
Chorus. — My Maud Adair ! Sweet Maud Adair I
We'll meet again up in the eky,
Maud Adair and I.
One year ago, with hand in hand,
* Maud Adair and I,
We roam'd the sunny li ill and strand,
Maud Adair and I ;
But one sad eve, with tearful eye,
She whisper'd low a last "Gooil-by,"—
We'll meet a^ain up in the sky,
Maud Adair and I.
Chorus. — 3Iy Maud Adair, <tc.
How happy were we, and how true,
Maud Adair and I,
Like elm and ivy, upward grew
Maud Adair and I ;
Oh, be thy spirit ever near
To whisper softly words of cheer!
While God doth guard, what can W9 fear,
Maud Adair and I?
Chorus. — My Maud Adair, «tc.
XO. IV. 1*
I>on*t Yon Cry so, Norah,
Darlingf.
C«pio4 by permifleien of Firth, Povd & Co., 547 Broadway , »vncn
of tho copyright.
Don't you cry so, Norah, darling,
Wipe those tears away,
Don't you cry so, Norah, darling,
Smile on me to-day ;
See the wind is freshly blowing,
And the ship longs for the sea,
Be to-day your smiles bestowing
Sweetly, love, on me.
Chorus* — Don't you cry so, Norah, darling,
Wipe those tears away ;
Don't you cry so, Norah, darling,
Smile on me to-day.
Though 'tis sad to leare you, darling,
I must no more stay,
Think of me, Norma, darling,
When I'm far away ; •
And, although to part brings sadness,
Keep your young heart light and free,
Your sweet face adorn with gladness,
Thinking still of me.
Don't you cry so, &c.
Don't you cry so, Norah, darling^
Wipe those tears away,
Don't you cry so, Norah, darling^
Smile on me to-day ;
When from work I rest a-weary,
All my thoughts on you will bo»
And my life will not seem dreary,
If you're true to mo.
Don't you cry s^, &c.
"We are Growing Old
Together.
Copied br pormUaioa of Fikth, Poxd k Co., MT Broadway, owneca
of the copyright.
We are grov/ing old together, thou dearest of the dear,
The morning of our life is past, and evening shades appear;
Some friend* we loved are in their graves, and many are
estranged,
But in sunshine or in 6hadow, our hearts are never changed.
"We are growing old together, thou dearest of the dear,
The morning of our life is past, and evening shades appear.
We are growing old togethor, the ivy and the tree
A fitting emblem is dear, of the love 'twixt you and me ;
To be worthy of each other in the past was all our aim,
And 'tie pleasant now to know, dear, our hearts are still the
same.
We are growing old together, thou dearest of the dear,
The morning of our life is past, and evening shades appear.
We are growing old together, together may we die —
Together may our spirits soar to our home beyond the sky ;
For we loved as few can love, dear, when life's flowery paths
we ranged,
And though we've wander'd long here, our nearts have
never changed.
We are growing old together, thou dearest of the dear,
The morning of our life is past, and evening shades appear
Cottage by the Sea.
popied bj permission of Firth, Poxd & Co., S47 Broadway, owaar*
of the copyright.
Childhood's days now pass before me
Forms and scenes of long ago,
Like a dream they hover o'er me,
Calm and bright as evneing's glow,
Days that know no shade of sorrow,
There my young heart pure and free,
Joyful hail'd each coming morrow
In the Cottage by the Sea.
CHORUS.
In the Cottage by the Sea,
In the Cottage by the Sea,
Joyful hail'd each coming morrow
In the Cottage by the Sea.
.fancy sees the rose-trees twining,
Round the old and rustic door,
And below, the white beach shining,
Where I gather'd shells of yore.
Hears my mother's gentle warning,
As she took me on her knee ;
And I feel again life's morning,
In the Cottage by the Sea.
In the Cottage by the Sea, &c.
What though years rolled above me,
Though 'mid fairer scenes I roam,
Tet I ne'er shall cease to love thee,
Childhood's dear aud happy home !
And when life's long day is closing,
Oh ! how pleasant it would be ;
On some faithful heart reposing
In the Cottage by the Sea.
In the Cottage by the Sea, &c«
Ben JE^isher* and V^ife.
Copied bj permission of Firth, Poxd, k Co., o4T Broadway, N. Y.,
publishers of the music.
Ben Fisher had finish'd his hard day's work,
And he sat at his cottage door ;
His good wife Kate sat by his side,
And the moonlight danced on the floor —
The moonlight danced on the cottage floor,
Her beams were clear and bright,
As when he and Kate, twelve years before,
Talk'd love in her mellow light.
Talk'd love in her mellow light.
Chorum. — The moonlight danced on the cottage floor,
Her beams were clear and bright,
As when he and Kate, twelve years before,
Talk'd love in her mellow light.
Ben Fisher had never a pipe of clay,
And never a dram drank he,
So he loved at home with his wife to stay,
And they chatted right merrily —
Right merrily they chatted on.
Her babe slept on her breast,
While a chubby rogue, with rosy smile,
On his father's knee found rest,
On his father's knee found rest.
Right merrily, Ac.
Ben told her how fast the potatoes grew,
And the corn in the lower field,
And the wheat on the hills was grown to seed,
And promised a glorious yield.
A glorious yield in the summer-time,
And his orchard was doing fair,
His sheep and his flock were in their prime,
His farm all in good repair,
His farm all in good repair.
A glorious yield, <fcc.
10
Kate said that her garden look'd beautiful,
Her fowls and her calves were fat,
The butter that Tommy that morning had churn'd,
Would buy him a Sunday hat.
That Jenny for pa a new shirt had made,
And it was done, too, by the rule,
That Neddy nicely could the garden spade.
And Ann was up head at school.
And Ann was up head at school.
That Jenny for pa, &c.
Ben slowly raised his toil-worn hand,
Through his locks of grayish brown :
" I'll tell you, Kate, what I think," said he,
" We're the happiest folks in town."
" I know," said Kate, "that we all work hard
Work and health go together I've found,
Por there's Mrs. Bell docs not work at all,
And she's sick the wnole year round,
And she's sick the whole year round.
* I know," said Kate, &c.
" They are worth their thousands, so people say,
But I ne'er saw them happy yet ;
'Twould not be me that would take their gold,
And live in a constant fret.
My humble home has a light within,
Mrs. Bell's gjold could not buy —
Six lovely children, a merry heart,
And a husband's love-lit eye,
And a husband's love-lit eye.
My humble home, kc.
I fancied a tear was in Ben's fine eye,
The moon shone brighter and clearer,
I could not tell why the man should cry,
But he hitch'd up to Kate still nearer.
He lean'd his head on her shoulder there,
And he took her hand in his,
And I guess (though I look'd at the moon just then),
That he left on her lips a kiss,
That he left on her lips a kiss.
Ha lean'd his head, &c.
11
A National Song.
All hail ! Unfurl the stripes and stars!
The banner of the free !
Ten times ten thousand patriots greet
The shrine of Liberty ;
Come, with one heart, one hope, one aim,
An undivided band,
To elevate, with solemn rites,
The ruler of our land.
Not to invest a potentate,
"With robes of majesty —
Not to confer a kingly crown,
Nor bend a supple knee.
Wo now beneath no scepter' d sway— -
Obey no royal nod —
Columbia's sons, erect and free,
Kneel only to their God !
Our ruler boasts no titled rank,
No ancient, princely line —
No legal right to sovereignty,
Ancestral and divine.
A patriot — at his country's call
Responding to her voice
One of the people — he becomes
A sovereign by our choice.
And now, before the mighty pile
We've rear'd to Liberty,
He swears to cherish and defend
The charter of the free !
God of our country ! seal his oath
With thy supreme assent.
God save the Union of the States!
God save the President !
12
The Old Brown Cot.
Among the scenes to memory dear,
To which my fancy oft returns,
And for those long-lost days of Joy
My spirit in its sadness dreams.
There's none which seems so dear to me
As that where past life's early morn ;
There's none for which I sigh so oft,
As for the cot where I was born.
CHORUS.
The old brown cot, the low brown cot,
The moss-grown cot beneath the hill ;
Though years have pass'd since I was there,
I love it, oh. I love it still.
It stood beside the running brook
Whose waters turn'd the noisy mill;
And close beside the tall old oaks
That nodded on the sloping hill.
The woodbine creeping o'er the walls,
The sunshine on the grassy plot,
How beautiful were they to me,
When home was in that old brown cot ?
The old brown cot, &c
Though I may view the fairest land
On which the sun in glory beams,
And dwell in climes more beautiful
Than poets visit in their dreams,
Still will affection linger round
That loved and consecrated spot,
And tears will fall as I go back
To boyhood and the old brown oot
The old brown cot, kc.
13
Come, gang awa' wi' me,
•opted bj permission of Firth, Po*d k Co., 547 Broadwaj.X. Y*
publishers of the music
Oh ! come my love, the moon shines bright,
Across yon rippling sea,
Come let thy heart be gay and light,
And hasten love wi' me.
'Tis mony a night sin* first we met
Beneath the greenwood tree,
Then let thy heart be lighter yet,
Gome, gang awa' wi' me.
"Tis mony a night sin' first we met,
Beneath the greenwood tree,
Then let thy heart be lighter yet,
Come gang awa' wi' me.
Oh ! tarry not, my only love,
I've pledged myself to thee,
And by yon stars that shine above,
Forever thine I'll be ;
'Tis mony a night sin' first we met
Beneath the greenwood tree,
Then say, ere yonder stars have set,
Thou'lt gang awa' wi' me.
Tis mony a night sin' first we met
Beneath the greenwood tree,
Then say ere yonder stara have set,
Thou'U gang awa1 wi' me.
Thy features are so fair my love,
Thy mind is ever free,
Oh ! let thy willing heart still prova
The love thou bear'st to me.
Tis mony a night sin' first we met
Beneath the greenwood tree,
Then say ere yonder stars have setj
Fll gang awa' wi' ye.
"Tis mony a night sin' first we met,
Beneath the greenwood tree.
Then say , ere yonder stars have sat,
J^l gang awa* wi' ye.
14
The U,ailx*oa,d. Engineer's
Song-.
I love — oh, how I love to ride
The Iron Horse in his fiery pride !
All other joys seem dull and vain,
When I lay my hand on his misty mane.
Fear him not ! with his ribs of steel,
His flaming throat, and his brushing wheel ;
And his smoky crest, so black and tall,
Like a pillar cover' d with a funeral pall.
Though his stamping shakes the solid ground,
And he scatters fire-flakes all around,
He's gentle as jennet in lady's rein
When he feels my hand on his misty mane.
Set me astride of the Iron Horse !
Full of fierce fury, speed, and force ;
And hark how he pants, and blows, and snorts,
While my skill his eager bounding thwarts.
But when I'm mounted on his back,
And you see him coming — clear the track !
Nothing can check him on his course,
As he thunders along — my Iron Horse !
Then huzza ! the Iron Horse for me !
The eagle scarce flies as fast as he ;
He skims the valley and scours the plain,
And shakes, like a cloud, his misty mane.
He tracks the prairie, climbs the hill,
The wild woods echo his neighing shrill ;
And when the fierce tempest lashes the shores,
Louder than ever the storm he roar&
15
»W i.i — . — . ■ ^ /
Linda's gone to Baltimore.
Copied bj permission of Firth, Pond k, Co., 547 Broadway, N. Yn
publishers of the music.
Oh, Linda's gone to Baltimore,
To stay a week or two,
And till she comes safe home agaJo,
I don't know what to do.
I take the banjo on my knee,
But can not hear to play,
For music only makes me sad,
When Linda's gone away,
When Linda's gone away.
CHORUS.
Oh, my heart am very lonplr
All the night and day,
For every thing seems sad ant* dr*ar,
When Linda's gone away.
I think of all the olden times
We've had when she was here,
I did not know 'till she was gone,
That she was half so dear.
The flowers are blooming all arouna
And all but me are gay,
For all the time I think or dream
Of Linda far away.
Chorus. — Oh, my heart am very lonely, &o»
Though many years have pass'd and gone
Sine* we were in our prime,
I loved her more as on we roam'd
Adown the Vale of Time !
How very much she thinks of me,
I should not dare to say ;
But oh, it always breaks my heart
When Linda's gone away.
Chorus. — Oh, my heart am very lonely, &c
16
Uncle Tim, the Toper.
■» ■ <&->-»—
There was an oJd toper, his name was Uncle Tim,
And he lived long ago, long ago;
And he spent all his money for whiskey and gin,
At the place where he hadn't ought to go.
CHORUS.
So, throw away the bottle and the jug !
Hang up the dipper and the mug!
There's no more hard drink for old Uncle Tim,
For he's thrown away the bottle and the jug !
Oncle Tim had a nose like a red woolen sack,
And the pimples on his face not a few ;
And he had one eye tha* was very, very black,
And me other t'other one was blue !
The hair on his head was like a mop on a stick,
And he had but one leg for to go ;
80 you see he couldn't go for to come it very quick,
So he had to, and go it very slow.
Uncle Tim was a hard one, and he used to take his T,
And the way he used to take it wasn't slow ;
And the kind he used to take it wasn't Bohee,
If it had a been it wouldn't have served him so.
Oh ! he toddled, t'other day, into the William Tell
A noted loafer's cubbv-hole, you know ;
Where they sell for medicine the raw material,
And sea-turtles caught in the Ohio.
fie drank and he spree'd till his money was all gone,
And he couldn't drink and spree it any more ;
A.nd then they kick'd him out, and he went zigzag home*
Just as he'd done many times before.
/hen the Devil, with the poker, and all the evil ones,
Got after him and worried him full sore ;
^avs he, " Old joker, I'm going to join the Sons,
So you caa't come it never any more !"
JJTow come, you liquor-sellers, and you liquor-drinkers toQi
Give up the bad practice, and be men !
Gome up and join the Sons, and stiek to them, too,
And never touch the filthy stuff again I
17
Bonnie Jamie,
The twilight hour is stealing,
The day is dying fast,
Neath the birken tree I'm kneeling,
Where Jamie met me laai.
Where Jamie met me last •
While tears fell from mine e'e,
But my bonnie, bonnie Jamie
Has cross' d the stormy sea,
The war's alarms were sounding,
For soldiers brave and true,
My deary's heart was bounding,
He join'd the army too.
He join'd the army too,
To fight for liberty,
Oh, my bonnie, bonnie Jamie
Has gone to war to dee.
Sin e'er I was a bairnee,
My Jamie I ha' known,
The fire of his bright e'e,
His voice sae saft and low.
His voice sae saft and low,
So snood and braw look'd he,
Oh, my bonnie, bonnie Jamie,
Will I nae mair see thee?
I gave unto my dearie
A lock of my gowden hair,
His sword I buckled cheerie,
And kiss'd his brow sae fair.
And kiss'd his brow sae fair,
Which he gave back to me,
Oh, my bonnie, bonnie Jamie,
Is a' the world to me.
Brave Mars, thou God of Battle,
My heart now speaks to the«,
When cannons loudly rattle,
On my dearie keep thine e'e.
On my dearie keep thine e'e,
My prayers I'll gie to thee,
For my bonnie, bonnie Jamie,
He's a' toe world to me.
18
X911 Hang my Harp oti a
T^illow-Tree.
m hang my harp on a willow-tree,
I'll off to the wars again,
lEjp peaceful home has no charms for me,
The battle-field no pain ;
The lady I love will soon be a bride
With a diadem on her brow ;
Oh, why did she flatter my boyish pride,
She's going to leave me now.
Oh, why, &c.
She took me away from my warlike lord,
And gave me a silken suit,
I thought no more of my master's sword,
When I play'd on my master's lute.
She seem'd to think me a boy above
Her pages of low degree ;
Oh, had I but loved with a boyish love,
It would have been better for me ;
Oh, had I, &c.
Then I'll hide in my breast every selfish care ;
HI flush my pale cheeks with wine ;
When smiles awake the bridal pair
I'll hasten to give them mine ;
HI laugh and I'll sing, though my heart xnaj blert^
And I'H walk in the festal train,
And if I survive it I'll mount my steed,
And I'll off to the wars again.
And if I survive, &o.
Bnt one golden tress of her hair Til twine
In my helmet's sable plume,
And then on the field of Palestine,
I'll seek an early doom.
And if by the Saracen's hand I fall,
'Mid the noble and the brave,
A tear from my lady love is all
I ask for the warrior's grave.
A tear from, &c,
19
rFohnny is Gone for- a
Soldier.
I'll trace these gardens o'er and o'er,
Meditate on each sweet flower,
Thinking of each happy hour, —
Oh, Johnny is gone for a soldier.
CHORUS.
Shool, Shool, Shool, agrah !
Time can only ease my woe,
Since the lad of my heart from me did go,
Oh, Johnny is gone for a soldier.
Some say my love is gone to France,
There his fortune to advance,
And if I find him it's but a chance, —
Oh, Johnny is gone for a soldier,
Shool, Shool, &c.
I'll sell my frock, I'll sell my wheel,
FH buy my love a sword of steel,
So in the battle he may reel, —
Oh, Johnny is gone for a soldier.
Shool, Shool, &c*
I wish I was on yonder hill,
It's there I'd sit and cry my fill,
So every tear may turn a mill, —
Oh, Johnny is gone for a soldier.
Shool, Shool, &c.
I'll dye my dress, I'll dye it red,
All over the world I'll beg my bread,
So my parents may think i^e deadt~
Oh, Johnny is gone for a soldier.
Shool, Shoel, &z:
20
We are all so Fond, of
KjLssingr.
\
Oh, kiss me quick and let me go,
Don't keep me here a waiting,
For if by chance we should be caught,
It would set the gals a talking.
I tow, I quite in passion get,
To see you act so silly,
I think I'll have to kiss you firsts
For I'm getting very chilly.
CHORUS.
Oh, kiss me quick, and let me got
Don't keep me here a waiting,
For if by chance we should be caught,
It would set the gals a talking.
She's fond of kissing, that I know,
So often as I meet her,
She says, " Kiss me quick, and let me go,
You'll love me all the better."
At evening when the room was dark,
And time was getting later,
I thought I'd steal a kiss from her,
And I kissM the Nigger Waiter.
Oh, kiss me quick, &c.
Oh, now I'll give you good advice,
When you go a sparking,
Don't do your kissing in the dark,
For fear your nps of marking.
But choose the day. and fear no shame,
if its not distressing,
I'm sure its nothing very new,
For we're all so fond of kissing.
Oh, kiss me quick, and let mo go, &fc
21
Tom Brown.
The King will take the Queen,
And the Queen will take the Jack ;
And now as we're together here,
We'll ne'er a one go back :
Here's to you, Tom Brown,
And with you I'll drink a quart ;
Here's to you with all my heart,
And with you I'll spend a shilling er two,
And thus before we part,
Here's to you, Tom Brown. Repeat,
The Jack will take the Ten,
And the Ten will take the Nine ;
And now that we're together here,
We'll take a glass of wine.
Here's to you, Tom Brown, &c.
The Nine will take the Eight,
And the Eight will take the Seven ;
And now that we're together here,
We'll stay 'till after eleven.
Here's to you, Tom Brown, &c.
The Seven will take the Six,
And the Six will take the Five ;
And now that we're together here,
We'll drink while we're alive.
Here's to you, Tom Brown, &c.
The Five will take the Four,
And the Four will take the Trey , (thr*e)
And now that we're together here,
We'll stay till the break of day.
Here's to you, Tom Brown, &c.
The Trey will take the Deuce, (two)
And the Deuce won't take the One ;
And now that we're together here,
We'll quit where we've begun.
Here's to you, Tom Brown, &c.
22
Ain't I Glad to Get Out of
tb.e "Wild.ezTa.ess.
Music— Turn, Turn, Turn, Turn.
Chora3. — Ahaa — Ahaa — Abaa — Ahaa.
Solo — Way down south in Beaver Creek,
In Beaver Creek, in Beaver Creek,
De niggers — dev grow about ten feet,
Way down in Alabam.
Chorus. — Oh, ain't I glad we got out of the wilderness
Out of the wilderness,
Oh, ain't we glad we got out of the wilderness
And left old Alabam.
[Symphony with dance as above.]
Solo — Dey wet the ground wid bacca smoke,
Wid bacca smoke, wid bacca smoke,
When out of de ground dar heads do poke*
Way down in Alabam,
^anoo & Chorus — Oh, ain't I glad, etc.
My wife's dead, an I'll get anuder one,
I'll get anuder one, I'll get anuder one,
My wife's dead, and I'll get anuder one,
Way down in Alabam.
Dance & Chorus — Oh, ain't I glad, etc.
Solo— I met a cat-fish in the ribber.
In the ribber, in the ribber,
I golly, it made dis nigger shiver
Way down in Alabam.
Banco & Chorus — Oh, ain't I glad, etc.
Solo— I steer d right straight for de critter's snouti
De critter's shout, de critter's snout,
Turned de cat-fish inside out,
Way down in Alabam.
Dance k Chorus — Oh, ain't I glad. etc.
Solo — Oh, here we go now altogether,
All together, all together,
Nebber mind de wind or wedder,
Way down in Alabam,
Dance- & Chorus — Oh, ain't I glad.
23
Jolly Jack th.e Rover.
-*-e«»-
Here I am one, and still will be,
Who spend their days in pleasure,
The tailor's bill is seldom fill'd, J
For he's never took my measure.
Cheru*. — It must be while I do live.
And I must not give over,
Until old age doth me engage,
From being a jolly rover.
It's on my vamps, I take my trampa,
My shoes being in a bad order,
Mv stockings down into the groun,
^For I seldom wears a garter.
It must be, &c.
If I would dress up in fine clothes,
The ladies would adore me,
The fops of beaux that wear fine eiothea.
They think to go before me.
It must be, &c.
It's I can play at cards and dice,
Let me be clrunk or sober,
"Win or lose, I'll have my dues,
For I'm Jolly Jack the Rover.
It must be, Ac.
Tkree tons of wool through a comb I pal
All in the neatest order,
As white as milk and soft as silk,
To please the farmer's daughter.
It must be, &e.
When my work's done and finish'd ofl^
I'll take it to the owner,
I have no doubt that she's found out, »
That I'm Jolly Jack the Rover.
It must be, <tc,
"When I am old, if I have gold,
I'll set down by my table,
With vou my dear, I'll toast good beer
And drink while I am able.
It must be, <£c.
When I am dead, and in my grave,
It's then I must give over,
Let each jolly lass fill a parting glass,
And drink a health to Jack the Eovei.
It must be, Ac.
24
SooixxebodLy's Courting*
Somebody.
Gopted by permission of Firth, Pond, &: Co., 547 Broadway, owner*
of the copyright.
Somebody's courting somebody
Somewhere or other to-night;
Somebody's whispering to somebody,
Under the clear moonlight,
Near the bright river's flow,
Running so still and slow ;
Talking so soft and low,
She sits with somebody.
Somebody's courting somebody
Somewhere or other to-night;
Somebody's listening to somebody
Under the clear moonlight,
Under the clear moonlight.
Pacing the ocean shore,
Edged by the foaming roar,
"Words never breathed before,
Sound sweet to somebody ;
Under the maple-tree,
Deep though the shadow be,
Plain enough they can see,
< Bright eyes has somebody.
Somebody's courting somebody
Somewhere or other to-night ;
Somebody's listening to somebody
Under the clear moonlight,
Under the clear moonlight.
x^o one sits up to wait,
Though she is out so late,
All know she's at the gate
Talking with somebody ;
Two sitting 6ide by side,
Float with the ebbing tide,
"Thus, dearest, may we glide
Through life," says somebody.
Somebody's courting somebody
Somewhere or other to-night ;
Somebody's listening to somebody
Under the clear moonlight,
Under the clear moonlight.
25
The Little Lcrw Room
where I Courted my "Wife,
Copied by penniason of Fikth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, publisher
of the musie.
Mj brow is seam'd o'er with the iron of years,
And the snow threads are gleaming the furrows among,
My eyes have grown dim in the shadow of tears,
"Where the flowers of my soul have died as they sprung,
But memory bears to me on its broad wings
Bright images true of my earliest lite,
And there, 'mid the fairest of all that is seen,
Is the little low room where I courted my wife,
Is the little low room where I courted my wife.
That lew, humble room seem'd a palace of light,
As love held his torch, and illumined the scene,
With glory of state and profusion bedight,
Where I was a monarch, my darling a queen ;
Ourselves were our subjects, pledged loyal were each,
And which should love best was our heartiest strife ;
What tales could it tell, if possessing a speech,
That little low room where I courted my wife,
That little low room where I courted my wife.
Warm vows has it heard, the warmest e'er spoke,
Where lips have met lips in holy embrace,
Where feelings that never to utterance woke, *
It saw oft reveal'd in a duplicate face ;
The sweet hours hasten'd, how quickly they flew,
With fervent devotion and ecstasy rife !
Our hearts throbb'd the hours, but "how I ne'er knew,
In the little low room where I courted my wife,
In the little low room where I courted my wife.
The romance of youth lent its rapturous zest,
And fairydom knew no delight like our own ;
Our words were but few, but they were the best,
A dialect sweet for ourselves all alone.
Bo anxious to hear what the other might say,
We neither could utter a word for our life";
Thus the hours, in silence, pass'd quickly away
In the little low room where I courted* my wife,
In the little low room where I courted my wife.
26
Long years have since pass'd o'er my darling and I,
The roses hare vanish' d away from her cheek,
But the merciless moments, as onward they fly,
Leave love still undimm'd in her bosom so meek ;
That love is the light to our faltering feet,
Our comfort in hours with sorrowing rife,
Our blessings in joy, as with joy 'twas replete,
In the little low room where I courted my wife,
la the little low room where I courted my wife.
Stand by the Flag.
Copied by permiwion of Firth, Poxd k Co., 547 Broadiraj, owaer*
of the copyright.
Stand by the flag, its folds have stream'd in glory,
To foes a fear, to friends a festal robe,
And spread in rythmic lines the sacred story,
Of freedom's triumphs over all the globe ;
Stand by the flag on land and ocean billow ;
By it your fathers stood unmoved and true ;
Living defended ; dying, from their pillow,
With their last blessing, pass'd it on to you.
Stand by the flag, though death-shots round it rattle;
And underneath its waving folds have met,
In all the dread array of sanguine battle,
The quivering lance and glittering bayonet ,
Stand by the flag, all doubt and treason scorning,
Believe with courage firm and faith sublime
That it will float until the eternal morning
Pales in its glories all the lights of time.
27
Gal from the South.
If y Massa had a colorM gal —
He brought her from the South,
Her hair it curl'd so very tight,
She could not shut her mouth,
Her eyes they were so Yery small,
They both ran iuto one,
And when a fly lit in her eye,
'Twas like a June-bug in the eun.
CHORUS.
Ha, ha, ha, yah, yah, yah,
The gal from the South ;
Her hair it curlM so yery tight,
She could not shut her mouth.
Her nose, it was so very long,
It turn'd up like a squash,
And when she got her dander up,
She made me laugh, by gosh !
Old Massa had no hooks or nails
Or nothing else like that,
So on this darkie's nose he used
To hang his coat and hat.
Chorus. — Ha, ha, ha, yah, yah, yah, kc
One morning Massa going away,
He went to get his coat,
But neither hat nor coat was there,
For she had swallow'd both.
He took her to a tailor shop,
To have her mouth made small,
The lady took in one long breath,
JLnd swallow'd tailor and all !
Ckorut. — Ha, ha, ha, yah, yah, yah, &o»
28
Commence you I>£tx%lsies all.
Copied by permission, of Firth, Poxd, & Co., 547 Broadvray, owners
of the copyright.
White folks, I am goin' to sing
A song dat am quite new,
Ob myself an' banjo-string,
An' you, an' you, an' you !
Oh, Sam, don't'laugh, I say,
Our strings will keep in "tunc,
Just listen to de banjo play
For do white folks 'round de room !
CHORUS.
Den commence you darkies all,
As loud as you can bawl !
Commence you darkies all, to-night.
Touch light de banjo-string,
An' rattle de ole jaw-bone,
Oh, merrily sound de tamborine,
An' make de fiddle hum ;
An' make de fiddle hum, old dad;
De way dem bones will shake,
Am a caution to all living niggs,
An' a deff to rattlesnakes.
Den commence, &c.
" Oh, for a piano or guitar !"
I hear a fair one cry ;
But when I hear dese instruments,
I tink I'd like to die.
I tink I'd like to die, I does,
I could lay me down to rest,
For music hab such 'lodious sounds
To soothe dis darkey's breast.
Den commence, &c.
When I go to promenade,
I look so fine an' gay,
I hab to take de dogs along
Te keep de gals away ;
Mybusom am so full ob lub,
Dis darkey can not rest,
So I'll bid you all good-by, at last,
Ab' trabble to de West.
Den commence, &c.
29
Jane Monroe.
Cepl«4by permission of Wm. Hall & Sox, 547 Broadway, V. Yn
owners of the copyright.
It was down in Louisiana,
Not many years ago,
I fell in lub wid a pretty gal,
And her name was Jane Monroe ;
Her eyes was bright as diamonds,
Her teeth was white as snow —
Oh, de prettiest gal I eber saw,
Was charming Jane Monroe 1
CHORUS.
But now she is far, far away,
And we hear from her ebery day ;
And if she was here we'd have nothing to f?^>
For we darkies all lub her so gay.
Che was like a model,
From her head down to her toe,
And sprightly as de hopper grass,
"Was charming Jane Monroe.
I'd rather be a slave for life,
And hab de corn to hoe,
Dan to be free, and lib widout
My charming Jane Monroe.
But now she is far, far away, &c
A darkey trader came one day,
And bought my gal from me,
And left me here alone to mourn
Beneaf de cypress-tree ;
It fill'd my heart wid grief an* pain,
To think devM treat me so,
But I live in hopes to meet again
My charming Jane Monroe.
But now she far, far away, &£•
30
I'm mot M!y self at all*
-*•♦-
Oh ! Fm not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear,
I'm not myself at all,
Nothing caring, nothing knowing, 'tis after you I'm goi&g.
Faith your shadow 'tis I'm growing, Molly dear, Molly
dear,
And I'm not myself at all.
Th'other day 1 went confessing and I ask'd the father's
blessin
But savs I, " Don't giye me one entirely,
For 1 fretted so last year,
But the half o' me is here,
So giye the other half to Molly Brierly
Oh ! I m not myself at all."
Oh ! I'm not mtself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear,
My appetite's so small,
I once could pick a goose, but my buttons are no use,
Faith my tightest coat is loose, Molly dear, Molly dear,
And I'm not myself at all.
If thus it is I waste, you'd better dear make haste
Before your loyer's gone away entirely,
If you don't soon change your mind
Not a bit o' me you'll find,
And what 'ud you think 'o that Molly Brierly?
Oh ! I'm not myself at all.
Oh ! my shadow on the wall, Molly dear, Molly dear,
Isn't like myself at all.
For I've got so very thin, myself says 'tisn't him,
But that purty girl so slim, Molly dear, Molly dear,
And I'm not myself at all.
If thus I smaller grow, all fretting dear for you,
'Tis you should make me up the deficiency,
So just let Father Taaf
Make you my better half,
And you will not the worse for the addition be ;
Oh ! I'm not myself at all.
I'll be not myself at all, Molly dear, Molly dear,
'Till you my own I call.
Since a change o'er me there carne, shure you might
change your name,
And 'twould just come to the same, Molly dear, Molly dear,
Oh ! twould just come the same;
For if you and I were one, all confusion would be gone,
And 'twould simplify the mather entirely,
And 'twould save us so much bother
When we'd both be one another,
So listen now to ray son, Molly Brierly,
Oh! I'm not myself at all.
31
Erin is my Home,
Oh, I have roam'd in many lands,
And many friends I've met ;
Not one fair scene or kindly smile
Can this fond heart forget ;
But I'll confess that I'm content,
No more I wish to roam ;
Oh, steer my bark to Erin's isle, —
For Erin is my home.
Oh, steer my bark, <fcc
If England were my place of birth,
I'd love her tranquil shore;
But if Columbia were my home,
Her freedom I'd adore.
Though pleasant days in both I pass'A,
I dream of days to come ;
Oh, steer my bark to Erin's isle, —
For Erin is my home.
Oh, steer'my bark, &o.
The Harp that once thro*
Tara's Halls.
The harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praiio,
Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to chiefs and ladies bright,
The harp of Tara swells;
The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.
Thus freedom now but seldom wakes;
The only throb she gives.
It when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.
32
I "Wish lie vroixld X>ecide*
Copied by permission of Firth, Poxd & Co., 547 Broadwajr, N. Y.
publishers of the music.
I wish he would decide, Mamma,
I wish he would decide,
I've been a bridesmaid many time,
"When shall I be a bride ;
My cousin Anne and sister Fan,
The nuptial knot have tied,
Yet come what will I'm single still,
Yet come what will I'm single still,
I wish he would decide.
When shall I be a bride,
When shall I be a bride,
For come what will I'm single still,
I wish he would decide.
He takes me to the play, Mamma,
And brings me pretty books,
He woos me with his eyes, Mamma,
Such speechless things he looks.
Where e'er I roam, abroad, at home,
He lingers by my side,
Yet come what will I'm single still,
Yet come what will I'm single still,
I wish he would decide.
When shsll I be a bride,
When shall I be a bride,
For come what will I'm single still,
I wish he would decide.
I've thrown out many a hint, Mamma,
I've spoke of other beaux,
I've tahVd about domestic life,
And sung u They don't propose."
Then if he means to break, Mamma,
My passion and my pride,
Unconquer'd yet I'll scorn regret,
Unconquer d yet I'll scorn regret,
Although he won't decide,
Although he won't decide,
Although he won't decide,
Unconquer'd yet I'll scorn regret,
Although he won't decide.
33
I've been Koaming o'er the Prairies
I've been roaming, roaming o'er the prairies vild
Plucking dewy blossoms, happy as a child ;
Casting care and sadness very far away,
For the earth rejoices on this pleasant day.
I've been roaming, roaming where the lilies sleep,
On the tiny lakelet sparkling cool and deep.
Where the' brooklet singeth o'er the pebbles whiU,
Making gladsome music glancing in the light.
I've been roaming, roaming through the wild wood deep
Searching for the flowrets when the prairies iLeep ;
In the tfny blossoms swaying to and fro,
Whispering to each other very soft and low.
I've been roaming, roaming o'er the dewy gTass,
Gemm'd with fairy blossoms waving as I pjvss,
For the breeze was flitting o'er the grassy lea,
Whispering many a story to the flowers and me ;
For the breeze was flitting o'er the grassy lea,
Whispering many a story to the flowers and me.
Oh, Kiss but never Tell.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publisher^
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
When love grows warm there is a charm,
And oft a sacred bliss,
When fond hearts greet for lips to meet
In sweet affection's kiss ;
But to reveal the sacred seal
Which hallows it so well,
May quench love's flame with breath of shame,
So kiss but never telL
Oh, kiss, but never tell, oh never 1
Breathing breaks the spell.
True lovers pledged to keep forever,
Kiss, but never telL
4
84
At night, when eyes like stars beam bright,
And kindred souls commune,
And heart to heart love's vows impart,
Beneath the smiling moon ;
At such an hour of magic power,
What hallow'd raptures dwell,
In each true breast by honor blest,
To kiss, and never tell.
Columbia Rules the Sea.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers!
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
The pennon flutters in the breeze,
The anchor comes a-peak,
Let fall, sheet home,
The briny foam and ocean's wave we seek ;
The booming gun speaks our adieu,
Fast fades our native shore,
Coulumbia free shall rule the sea
Britannia ruled of yore.
We go the tempest's wrath to dare,
The billows' madden'd play.
Now climbing high against the sky,
Now rolling low away;
While Yankee oak bears Yankee hearts,
Courageous to the core,
Columbia free shall rule the sea,
Britannia ruled of yore.
We'll bear her flag around the world,
In thunder and in flame,
The sea-girt isles a wreath of smiles
Shall form around her name ;
The wind shall pipe her pagans louc^
The billowy chorus roar,
Columbia free shall rale the sea,
Britannia ruled of yore.
35
"Would. I were a I3oy
Oh, would I were a boy again,
When life seem'd fo'rm'd of sunny years,
And all the heart then knew of pain
Was swept away in transient tears,
Was swept away in transient tears.
When ev'rv dream hope whisper'dthen,
My fancy deem'd was only truth;
Oh, "would that I could know again,
The happy visions of my youth.
Oh, would I were a boy again, <tc.
Tis vain to mourn that years have shown
llow false these fairy visions were,
Or murmur that mine eyes have kno.wn
The burden of a fleeting tear ;
But still the heart will fondly cling
To hopes no longer prized as truth,
And memory still delights to bring
The happy visions of my youth.
Oh, would I were a boy again, &c.
"Would I were a Grirl
^ig-ain.
Oh, would I were a girl a^ain,
With heart and spirit I
To gayly rove the village plain,
Or singing o er the lea.
Then can you wonder if I s
And sadly thus deplore,
To v. e by,
And be a girl once more.
gayly trod the mountain side,
Knew naught of care or gloom.
Its purple bells brought home with pride,
To deck my mother's room,
Then can you wonder if I sigh, <kc.
36
The Farmer's Boy.
The sun had gone down behind yon hill,
And o'er yon dreary moor,
When, weary and lame, a boy tnere came
Up to a Farmer's door, —
jSaying-, can you tell me, if any there be,
Can give to me employ,
For to plow, for to mow, for to reap, for te sow,
For to be a Farmer's Boy.
My father is dead, my mother is left
With her five children small,
And what is worse, for mother still,
I'm the eldest of them all ;
Though small I am, I fear no work,
If you Ayil give me employ.
For to plow, <fcc.
One favor yet I ask, If you can not me employ,
• That is to shelter me this oue night
From the cold winter's blast;
At the break of day, I will trudge away,
Elsewhere to seek employ,
For to plow, &c.
The farmer says, "We will try the lad,
No further let him seek."
Oh, yes, dear father, his daughter cried,
While the tears rolled down her cheek ;
For him that can labor it is hard to wantt
Or elsewhere to seek employ
For to plow, &c.
At length of years this boy grew up,
This good old farmer died,
He left the boy the farm he had,
And his daughter for his bride.
The boy that was, is a farmer now,
And he oft times thinks with joy,
On the happy, happy day, he came that way,
For tah«a Farmer's Bov.
37
Paddy on tlx© Canal.
When I landed in sweet Philadelphia, the weather was pleas-
ant and clear,
I did not stay long in the city, so quickly I shall let yoa hear.
I did not stay long in the city, for it happen'd to be in the
fall,
I never reef 'd a sail in my rigging, till I anchor'd out on the
canal.
CnoRUS. — So fare yon well, father and mother,
Likewise to old Ireland too ;
So fare you well, sister and brother,
So kindly I'll bid you adieu.
When I came to this wonderful rampire, it fill'd me with the
greatest surprise,
To see such a great undertaking, on the like I never open'd
my eyes ;
To see full a thousand brave fellows at work among moun-
tains so tall,
To dig through the valleys so level, through rocks for to cut
a canal. So fare you well, <fec.
I enter'd with them for a season, my monthly pay for to draw,
And being in very good humor, I often sang Erin Go Bragh.
Our provision it was very plenty, to complain we'd no reason
at all,
I had money in every pocket while working upon the canal.
So fare you well, &c.
I learnt to be very handy, to use both the shovel and spade,
I learnt the whole art of canalling — I think it an excellent
trade.
I learned to be very handy, although I was not very tall,
I could handle the sprig of shillclah, with the best man on
the canal. So fare you well. <fcc.
I being an entire strai.^r, be sure I had not much to say,
The boss came round in a hurry, says, "Boys, it is grog-time
a-day ;"
Wc all marched up in good order, ha was father now unto its
all,
1 wish'd myself from that moment to be working upon
the canal. ire you well, Ac.
When ut night wc all rest from our labor, be sure but our rent
i-i all paid
We lay down our pick and our shovel, likewise our axe and
our spade.
We all set a-joking together, there was nothing our minds to
enthrall
If happiness be in this wide werld, I am sure it is on the
tonal. So fare you wed, Ac.
38
They don't "wish. Me at
Home.
They don't wish me at home, though they miss m«y
*T would be a great assurance, I fear,
To think for a moment some soft one
Would say, "I wish Toby were here."
Although the poor tom-cat at the fireside
May think of poor me as I roam,
Oh yes, I'd be green beyond measure
To think they do wish me at home.
Bark nights were my joy for this reason :
Some orchard I7d visit alone ;
Next morning some armer would mention
My name with some fruit that was gone.
But now fruits are safe from all danger,
None's miss'd since poor Toby's away ;
And the neighbors all wish I may never
Return from the place where I stay.
I forgot not my place at the table,
When " grub-time" was fast drawing nigh;
Then the " vittles" that lay all around me
Disappear1 d in the wink of an eye.
Now, when my poor supper is over,
I spread myself out for a snore,
Oh ! I dream of the fruits in the garden,
And think myself happy once more.
Oh ! I wish I was home, though they quiz me
And jaw me from morning till night ;
Td finger the peach-trees around me —
The farmers should stare with affright.
Although they would give me no welcome,
I'd not be less bold than before ;
Their fruit they shall miss by the bushel,
Because I am with them once more.
39
Brolren-Heai'ted. Torn, ttie
Lover*.
Fm lonesome since I cross'd the eaes,
My mind is never aisy ;
No mortal sowi can give relaif —
In troth, I'm getting crazy.
The burning tears roll down me chakes,
In faith, they nearly blind me ;
I weep and sigh, both night and dayf
For the Girl I left behind me.
The lovely lass I courted long,
She lives in Tipperary ;
Her eyes were like the diamonds bright,
And they call'd her black-eyed Mary.
In summer's night I took delight,
Her beauty so inclined me,
A thousand crowns I'd give to see
The Girl I left behind me.
In foreign lands eompell'd to roam,
Yet often thick of Wary :
The black-eyed la.-s that won my heart
That lives in Tipperary.
On distant shores I weep and sigh,
Without a friend to mind me;
Bad luck unto the ship that sail'd
And left the Girl behind me.
If e'er I land on Erin's shore,
I'll haste to Tipperary ;
Within me arms I will embrace
Me lovelv black-eved Mary.
With her Til dwell while life" shall last,
For she'd roam the world to find m«,
from Mary I'll not wander more,
The Girl I left behind me.
40
Song of the Farmer.
I have cattle that feed in the valley,
And herds that graze on the hill,
And I pride in the fruits of rny labor,
For I'm lord of the land that I till ;
I have plowed the rough hill and the meadow,
Till feeble with age and with toil,
And I know before long that another
Shall reap the new fruits of the soil.
For the son that hath toiled for me ever,
And faithfully stood by my side,
Hath a hand that shall gather the harvest
When his feeble old father hath died ;
And the daughter, so kind to her mother,
Shall share with him all I possess,
For I feel that they love me as father,
And welcome my tender caress.
There's my faithful, my trusting companion,
My kind-hearted, dear, loving wife,
I have toiled for her comfort with pleasure,
For such was the pride of my life ;
And still in my manhood I love her,
For her kind and affectionate care,
And all that the earth can afford me,
With her I most willingly share.
Terry O'Reilly.
Sure, Terry O'Reilly, I've waited, you know,
And sure you're not coming like my own thrue beau ;
I've looked through the windy till each little pane,
Is near hid by my tears like a* shower of rain.
Och, hone, Terry, come soon,
Or etse I'll get married some fine afternoon.
Sweet Terry O'Reilly, why keep me sighing?
If I tarry longer, of grief I'll be dying ;
Now, Terry, pray haste, and this heart give relief
Or faith, my dear Terry, I'll soon die with grie£
Och hoae, Terry, etc
P.
41
Dear Terry O'Reilly, I ne'er was a flirt,
Still Terence is handsome, and he'll gain my heart ;
8ure some one I must have, whose kindness will prove
lie's devoted to me, and faith him I'll love.
Ocli, hone, Terry, etc.
Now, Terry O'Reilly, I am tired of sighing,
I'm wearied to death, sure, with fretting and crying;
I'll manry to spite you, macushla, and part,
With love for you, Terry, and so break my heart.
Och, hone, Terry, etc.
Answer of Katy Darling
Oh, in heaven you will meet your Katy Darling
There my smiles you may ever more behold ;
I believed not you were false to Katy Darling,
Or that your love had ever grown cold ;
Oh, no, I could not believe
That my Dermot was untrue ;
No love was like the love of Katy Darling,
Search the world you will find' very few ;
I'm ever near you, dearest,
Yv^hen all is wrapped in slumber, Katy Darling
Is watching by her dear Dermot's side ;
Your loving and beloved Katy Darling,
Her spirit will ever be your guide.
When you kneel by the grave of Katy Darling,
Katy's spirit will meet with you there ;
Dear Dermot, weep no more for Katy Darling,
This bright world is free from all care ;
By my grave I see you weeping,
In the silent, starry light ;
I long to have you with your Katy Darling,
Happy you'd be with her this night ;
I hear you, dear Dermot,
And every night by the grave of Katy Darling,
She will meet you till you lie by her side :
Then in heaven you will meet your Katy Darling
Dear Dermot and his much-loved bride.
43
Sparking Sunday
Night.
Stting in a corner, on a Sunday eve,
With a taper finger resting on your sleeve ;
Starlight eyes are casting on your face their light ;
Bless me, this is pleasant — sparking Sunday night I
chorus.
Bless me, ain't it pleasant,
Bless me, ain't it pleasant,
Bless me, ain't it pleasant,
Sparking Sunday night ?
How your heart is thumping 'gainst your Sunday vest.
How wickedly 'tis working on this day of rest !
Hours seem but minutes, as they take their flight,
Bless me, ain't it pleasant, sparking Sunday night?
Dad and Mam are sleeping, on their peaceful bed,
Dreaming of the things the folks in meeting said.
" Love ye one another," ministers recite ;
Bless me, don't we do it — sparking Sunday night ?
One arm with gentle pressure lingers round her waist,
You squeeze her dimpled hand, her pouting lips you taste,
She freely slaps your face, but more in love than spite ;
Oh, thunder ! ain't it pleasant — sparking Sunday night?
But hark ! the clock is striking; it is two o'clock, I annm,
As sure as I'm a sinner, the time to go has come.
You ask, with spiteful accents, if " that old clock is right!"
And wonder if it ever — sparked on Sunday night !
One, two, three sweet kisses ; four, five, six, you hook ;
But, thinking that you rob her, give back those you took ;
Then, as for home you hurry, from the fair one's ligh^
Don't you wish bach dat was only Sunday night J
43
Sprig of Shillelah.
Och, love is the soul of a neat Irishman ;
He loves all that is lovely, loves all that he can ;
With a sprig of shillelah, and shamrock so green.
His heart is good-humor'd, 'tis honest and sound,
No malice or hatred is there to be found ;
He courts and he marries, he drinks and he fights
For love — all for love — for in that he delights,
With his sprig of shillelah, and shamrock so green.
Who has e'er had the luck to see Donnybrook fair ?
An Irishman all in his glory is there,
With his sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green ;
His clothes spick and span new, without e'er a speck,
A neat Barcelona tied round his neck ;
He goes to his tent, and spends his half-crown,
He meets with a friend who for love knocks him down,
With his sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green.
At evening returning, as homeward he goes,
His heart, soft with whiskey, his head soft with blows,
From a sprig of shillelah" and shamrock so green.
He meets with his Shelah, who, blushing a smile,
Cries, " Get you gone, Pat !" yet consents all the while.
To the priest soon they go, and nine months after that,
A fine baby cries, " How d'ye do, Father Pat?"
With your sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green ?
* Bless the country V* says I, "that gave Patrick his birth,
Bless the land of the oak, and its neighboring earth,
Where grows the shillelah and shamrock so green.
May the sons of the Thames, the Tweed, and the Shannon,
Thrash the sons that would plant on their confines a canno*.
United and happy, at liberty's shrine,
May the rose and the thistle long flourish and twme
Round a sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green."
44
ThcTlLiOw Back'd Oar.
-o-©^-
When first I saw sweet Peggy,
'Twas on a market day ;
A Low Back'd Car she drove, and sat
Upon a truss of hay.
But when that hay was blooming grass,
And deck'd with flowers of spring,
No flowers were there that could compare
With the lovely girl I sing,
As she sat in the Low Backed Car, the man at the turnpike bar.
Good-natured old soul, never ask'd for hia toll,
But look'd after the Low Back'd Car.
In battle's wild commotion,
The proud and mighty Mars,
With hostile scythes, demands his tythes,
Of death in warlike scars;
But Peggy, peaceful goddess,
Has 'darts in her bright eye,
That knock men down in the market-town,
As right and left they fly; (far,
Asshesitsin the Low Back'd Car, "than battle more dangerous
For the doctor's art, cannot cure the heart
That is hit from the Low Back'd Car.
Sweet Peggy round her car, sir,
Has strings of ducks and geese*
But the scores of hearts she slaughters,
Bv far outnumber these.
While she among her poultry sits,
Just like a turtle-dove,
Well worth the cage, I do engage,
Of the blooming God of Love.
As she sits in her Low Backed Car, the lovers come fromafai.
And envy the Ghickens that Peggy is picking,
As she rides in her Low Back'd Car.
I'd rather own that car, sir,
With Peggy by my side,
4 Than a coach and four, and gold galore,
With a lady for my bride.
For the lady would sit forninst me,
On a cushion made with taste,
While Peggy would sit beside me,
With my arm around her waist.
As we rode in that Low Back'd Car, to be married by Father
Magar,
On, my heart would beat high at each glance of her eye,
As we rode in the Low Back'd Car.
45
Poor Old Maids.
Fourscore and four of us, poor old maids,
What will become of us, poor old maids!
Fourscore and fbur of us,
Without a penny in our purse,
What the deucethen can be worse, poor old maids*
Dressed in yellow, pink and blue, poor old maid*,
Dressed in yellow, pink and blue, poor old maids,
Dressed in yellow, pink and blue,
Nursing cats is all we do,
Nursing cats is all we do, poor old maids.
All alone we go to bed, poor old maids,
All alone we go to bed, poor old maids,
All alone we go to bed.
And not a word to us is said,
And not a word to us is said, poor old maids.
We're all in a willing mind, poor old maids,
We're all in a willing mind, poor old maids,
We're all in a willing mind,
If the men would be so kind,
As to wed the lame and blind, poor old maids.
And if there'3 any in this room, poor old maids
And if there's any in this room, poor old maids
And if there's any in this room,
I hope they'll marry very soon,
And enjoy life's honeymoon, poor old maids.
Uncle G-abriel.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co.. Mnsic Pubi jtsm
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
I was gwan to Sandy Point de oder arternoon,
Dis nigger's heel cum out ob joint a running arter a o^on;
I thought I seed bim on a log, a lookin' mighty quar,
When I cum up to de log, de coon he wasn't dar.
cnoni s.
Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, now come along, oh, do;
Oh, what will Uncle* Gabriel say ? ya, eh, eh, eh, ya, eh, eh, e\ •
What will Uncle Gabriel say? why, Jinny, can't you coow
along too?
I blowed de horn, I called de dog, and tell him for to bark;
I hunt ill night in de holler log, but de coon he still keep dark ;
46
At last I hear de ole coon sneeze, de dog he fly around,
And on to hira he den did freeze, and pull him to de ground.
Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, etc.
De coon he lay upon de ground, as stiff as any post ;
I knock him den upon de head, and he gabe up de ghost ;
I took him to de old log house, as soon as he suspire;
lie looked just like a little mouse, and we roast him on de fire.
Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, etc.
De niggers dey come all around, and kick up a debil of a
splutter,
Dey eat de coon and clar de ground, to dance de chicken flutter,
Dey dance all night till the broke of day, to a tune on de old
banjo,
And den dey all did gwan away, before de chicken crow.
Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, etc.
Oh, God, Preserve the Mariner.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publisher!,
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Oh, God ! preserve the mariner,
When o'er the troubled deep
The rolling thunder — lightning flash,
And howling tempests sweep ;
When like a reed the tall mast shakes,
And human art is vain,
Oh, God ! restore the mariner
To home, dear home, again.
The sailor's wife sinks down to rest,
But dreams disturb her sleep.
She starts to hear the hollow wind,
And turns aside to weep ;
She clasps her baby, and she prays,
Through tears like falling rain :
" Oh, God ! restore the mariner,
To home, dear home again."
The widow for her darling child,
Her bosom's only joy,
Invokes the Power that rules the storm,
For blessings on her boy ;
When ruin lurketh in the cloud,
And death sweeps o'er the main,
Oh, God ! restore the mariner,
To home, dear home again.
47
.A. Merry Gripsy Grii'l ag^ain.
Copied by permission n( Kih ni, l'«>> n .V < <> . 647 Broadway, H. i\,
public in a t\t t up uUmic.
A merry Gipsy girl again,
I'm free to rove al will :
Th*' woodlands wild, the meadows sweet,
The valley and tlie hill
How poor the proudest roof ye boast
To that high-art'lted dome,
Whose boundless circle makes me think
The whole wide world my home.
Here none can bar the free fresh air,
Nor mete out heaven's light,
Nor make the gloiious day appear
Too near akin tonight.
Amid the beauties ol the mead
My summer days are spent,
And joyfully the stars look down
Upon my Gipsy tent ;
And joyfully the stars look down
Upon my Gipsy tent.
I wander freely as the fawn
Which hath not learnt to fear
The death -cry of the hunter's voice
Resounding far and near;
And bounding through the wroods
I feel as if I too could soar,
Bird-like, upon the wings of joy,
And sing for eveimore !
Come out, ye pent-up toilers!
Come, from city dark and drear,
And see what gladness Nature has
In all her be uities here ;
And ere ye see!; your homes, yell say,
Your time has we'd been spent,
And wish that all the world
Could be, one happy Gipsy tent;
And wish that all the world
Could be, one happy Gipsy tent.
48
Let 3V£e X£iss Hirm for His
Mother.
Let rae kiss him for bis mother,
Let me kiss his youthful brow ;
I will love him for his mother,
And seek her blessing now.
Kind friends have soothed his pillow,
Have watch' d his every care ;
Beneath the weeping willow,
Oh, lay him gently there.
CHORUS.
Sleep, dearest, sleep ;
I love you as a brother ;
Kind friends around you weep,
I've kiss'd you for your mother,
Let me kiss him for his mother,
What though left a stranger here ?
She has loved him as none other,
I feel her blessing near.
Though cold that form lies sleeping,
Sweet angels watch around ;
Dear friends are near thee weeping
Oh, lay him gently down.
Sleep, dearest, sieep, &a
Let me kis3 him for his mother,
Or perchance a sister dear*;
^f a father or a brother,
I know their blessing's here.
$hen kiss him for his mother :
'Twill soothe her after-years ;
Farewell, dear stranger brother,
Our requiem, our tears.
Sleep, dearest, sleep, &c.
49
We were Boys and Girls Together.
We were boys and girls together
In that happy time,
When the spirit's light shone brightest
And the heart was in its prime ;
Ere the morning light was clouded,
That beamed upon our youth,
And chill of earthly knowledge
Had blighted childhood's truth.
We were boys and girls together,
When the step was firm and light,
When the voice was clear aud ringing,
And the laughing eyes were bright ;
Then our love sought no concealment,
And our bosoms knew no art,
And the sunshine of our childhood
Cast no shadow on our heart.
A Parody on 'Uncle Sam's Farm."
Of ail the reformations in the east or in the west,
Oh, the temperance reformation is the greatest and the best,
We invite the whole creation our pledge to come and sign,
And leave off drinking brandy, rum, cider, beer and wine.
CHORUS.
Then come along, come along, make no delay,
Come sign the temperance pledge, sign it right away,
For if you do but keep it, you need uot fear alarm,
But you will soon be rich enough to buy a handsome farm.
The temperance cause is spreading o'er this our native land,
And Alchy with his subjects know not where to make a stand.
His army is decreasing, and soon there'll be but few,
WTio to oppose the temperance cause on Alchy's smile get. blae
The drunkard is so foolish that he will money waste,
On liquor, when there's water more pleasant to the taste ;
The water is much cheaper, and much more healthy, too,
And never makes a man a fool— which liquors often do,
It never ret caused people to quarrel and to fight,
Or come home intoxicated at twelve o'clock at night.
Cold water never caused man in the gutter to be found,
And never, as I know of, to feel upward for the ground.
Now if you only hasten our pledge to come and sign,
To leave off drinking brandy, rum, cider, gin, and wine.
You can not help but prosper in your business throng* lift.
Provided you have with you a nice teetotal wife.
t
50
The Indian "Warrior's
<Grx*ave.
Green is the grave by the wild dashing river,
Where sleeps the brave with his arrows and quiver
Where in his pride he roved in his childhood
Fought he, and died, in the depths of the wildwood.
In the lone dell, while his wigwam defending,
Nobly he fell 'neath the hazel-boughs bending;
Where the pale foe and he struggled together,
Who from his bow tore his swift-arrow d feather.
Ere the next noon the bold warrior was buried •
And ere a moon his tribe westward had hurried.
But a rude cross, with its rough-chiseled numbers,
Half hid in moss, tells the red warrior slumbers.
Indian. Hunter.
Oh, why does the white man follow my path, like the hound on
the tiger's track ?
Does the flush of my dark cheek waken his wrath ? does hfl
covet the bow at my back ?
He has rivers and seas, where the billows and breeze
Bear riches for him alone —
And the sons of the wood, never plunge in the flood,
Which the white man calls his own.
Yha, yha !
Then why should he come to the streams where none buttha
red skin dare to swim ?
Why, why should he wrong the hunter ? one who never did
harm to him !
Yha, yha, yha !
The Father above thought fit to give to the white man corn
and wine —
There are golden fields where he may live, but the forest
shades are mine.
The eagle hath its place of rest, the wild horse where to dwell,
And the spirit that gave the bird its nest, made me a home
as well.
Yha, yha ! .
Then back ! go back ! from the red man's track, for the re<|
man's eyes are dim,
To find that the white man wrongs the one who never did
harm to him.
Yha, yha, vha^.
51
Molly Bawn.
Oh, Molly Bawn, why leave me pining,
Or lonely waiting here for you —
While the 'stars above are brightly shining,
Because they have nothing else to do.
The flowers late were open keeping,
To try a rival blush with you,
But their morher, Nature, kept them sleeping,
Wiih their rosy faces wash d m dew.
'Oh, Molly, &c.
The pretty flowers were made to bloom, dear,
And the pretty stars were made to shine ;
The pretty girls were made for the boys, dear,
And may be you were made for mine.
The wicked watch doir here is snarling —
lie takes me for a thief, d'ye see?
For he knows I'd steal you, Molly, darling,
And then transported I should be.
Oh, Molly, &c.
Norah, the Pride of liil-
dare.
As beauteous as Flora is charming young Xorah,
The joy of my heart and the Pride of Kildare,
I ne'er will deceive her, for sadly 'twould grieve her,
To fiud that I sigh'd for another less fair.
Chorus.
Her heart with truth teeminir, her eye with smiles beaming;
What mortal could injure i fair.
Oh, Xorah, dear Norah, the Pride of Kildare.
Where e'er I may be, love, Til ne'er forget thee, love,
Though beauties* may smile and try to ensnare,
Yet nothing shall ever, my heart from thine sever,
Dear Norah, gweet Norah, the Pride of Kildare.
52
The Hazel Dell.
*pl©4 y permission of Wx. Hall & Son. 543 Broadway, N J . Pa¥
Ushers of the music and owners of the copyrigtrL
In the Hazel Dell my Nelly's sleeping,
Nelly loved so long,
And my lonely, lonely wutch I'm keeping,
Nelly lost and gone ;
Here in moon-light often wesjiave wa.idered,
Through the silent shade,
Now where leafy branches drooping,
Downward little Nelly's laid.
CHORUS.
All alone mv watch- I'm keeping,
In the 'Hazel Dell,
For my darling Nelly's near me sleeping,
Nelly dear, farewell.
In the Hazel Dell my Nelly's sleeping,
Where the flowers wave,
And the silent stars are nightly weeping,
O'er poor Nelly's grave,
Hopes that once my bosom fondly cherished,
Smile no more for me,
Every dream of joy alas has perished,
Nelly dear, with thee.
All alone my watch, &c.
Now I'm weary, friendless and forsaken,
Watching here alone,
Nelly, thou no more will fondly cheer me,
With thy loving tone,
Yet forever shall thy gentle image,
In my memory dwell,
And my tears thy lonely grave shall moisten,
Nelly dear, farewell.
All alone mv ^atch, &c
63
Home, S^vveet Home.
'Mid pleasures and palaces, though we mar roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A. charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home.
I gaze on the moon, as I trace the drear wild,
And feel that my parent now thinks of her child;
She looks on that moon from our own cottage door,
Through woodbines whose fragrance shall cheer me no more.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home.
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain,
Oh, give me my lowly, thatch'd cottage again;
The birds singing gayiv, that came at my call,
Give me them, with the peace of mind, dearer than all.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home,
There's no place like home.
^STy Boyhood's Home,
Mv boyhood's home! I see thy hills —
\ see thy valley's changeful green,
And manhood's eye a tear-drop fills,
Though years have roll'd since thee I've seen.
I come to thee from war's dread school,
A warrior stern o'er thee to rule ;
Hut while I gaze on each loved plain,
I feel I am a boy again.
To the war-steed adieu — to the trumpet farewell-^-
To the pomp of the palace — the proud, gilded dome:
For the green scenes of childhood, I bid ye farewell I
The aoldier returns to his boyhood's loVed home.
My boyho'od's home, <&c
64
The Old Kirk- Yard.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond- & Co., Music Publishers,
647 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Oh come with me to the old kirk-yard,
I well know the path through the soft, green sward ;
Friends slumber there we were wont to regard,
We'll trace out their names in the old kirk-yard.
Oh, mourn not for them, their grief is o'er.
Oh, weep not for them, they weep no more,
For deep is their sleep, though cold and hard,
Their pillow may be in the old kirk-yard.
I know it is vain when friends depart,
To breathe kind words to a broken heart •
I know that the joys of life seems marr'd
When we follow them home to the old kirk-yard.
But were I at rest beneath yon tree,
Why should'st thou weep, dear love, for me ?
I'm way-worn and sad, ah, why then retard,
The rest that I seek in the old kirk-yard ?
My ain Fireside.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Oh ! I hue seen great anes, and sat in great ha'as,
'Mang Lords and 'mang Ladies, a' cover'd wi' braws,
At feasts made for Princes wi' Princes I've been,
Whar the grand shine o1 splendor has dazzled my een.
CHORUS.
Bnt a sight sae delightful I trow, I ne'er spied,
As the bonnie blithe blink o' my ain fireside,
My ain fireside, my ain fireside, oh sweeet is the blink o' my si*
fireside.
Ance mair, Heaven be praised, round my ain heartsomc ingle,
Wi' the friends o' my youth, I cordially mingle ;
Nae force now upon me to seem wae or glad,
t may laugh when I'm merry, and sigh when I'm sad.
Chorus. — My ain fireside, etc
Nae falsehood to dread, nae malice to fear,
But truth to delight me, and kindness to cheer ;
O' a' the roads to pleasure that ever was tried,
There's nane half so sure as ain's ain fireside.
Chobus.— My ain fireside, etc
55
He led. Her to tlie .Altar.
Copied by permission of Firth, Posd k Co., 547 Broadway, 1*. Y.,
publishers of the music.
He led her to the altar,
But the bride was not his chosen ;
He led her with a hand as cold
As though its pulse had frozen.
Flowers were crush'd beneath his tread,
A glided dome was o'er him ;
But his brow was damp, and his lips were pale,
As the marble steps before him.
CHORUS.
He led her to the altar,
But the bride was not his chosea ;
He led her with a hand as cold
As though its pulse had frozen.
His soul was sadly dreaming,
Of one he had hoped to cherish ;
Of a name and form that the sacred rites,.
Beginning, told must perish.
He gazed not on the stars and gems
Of those who circled round him ;
Uut trembled as his lips gave forth
The words that falsely bound him.
He led her to the altar, &;
Many a heart was praising,
Many a hand was proffered ;
But mournfully he turn'd him
From the greeting that was offerM.
Despair had fix'd upon his brow
Its deepest, saddest token,
And the bloodless cheek and stifled sigV
Betray* d his heart was broken.
He led her to the altar, As,
5G
Ship A-Hoy!
Copied by permiason of FiRri, Po.fn & CrtV, 547 Broadway, publisher*
of the music.
"When o'er the silent seas alone,
For days and nights we've cheerless gone,
Oh ! they who've felt it, know how sweet,
Some sunny morn a sail to meet,
Some sunny morn a sail to meet!
Sparkling on deck is every eye ;
41 Ship a-hoy ! ship a-hoy !" our joyful cry.
When answering back we faintly hear,
"Ship a-hoy ! what cheer! what cheer !*
Now sails aback we nearer come,
Kind words are said of friends at home ;
But soon, too soon, we part in pain,
To sail o'er silent seas again,
To sail o'er silent seas again.
When o'er the ocean'3 dreary plain,
With toil her destined port to gain,
Our gallant ship has near'd the strand,
We claim our own, our native land,
We claim our own, our native land;
Sweet is the seaman's joyous shout,
44 Land ahead! land ahead ! lookout! look out l"
Around on deck we gayly fly,
44 Land ahead ! land ahead !" with joy we cry;
Yon beacon light directs our way,
While grateful vows to Heaven we pay,
And soon our long-lost joys renew,
And bid the boisterous main adieu,
And bid the boisterous main adieu.
57
Song of Blanche Alpen.
Copied by permission r.f Firth, Po.vn, k Co., 547 Broadway, X. T.,
publishers of the music
You speak of sunny skies to mc —
Of orange grove and bower —
Of winds that wake soft melody
From leaf and blooming flower;
And you may prize those far-off skies,
But tempt not me to roam;
In sweet content mv days a>-e spent,
Then wherefore leave my home ?
In s- :it,
wherefore leave my home ?
You tell me oft of rivers bright,
Where golden galleys float;
But have you seen our lakes by night,
Or sailM in Alpine boat ?
You speak of lands where hearts and hands
Will greet me as I come,
But though I find true hearts and kind,
The; at home.
But though I find true hearts and kind,
They're >. at home.
Had you been rear'd by Alpine hills,
Or lived in Alpine dells,
You'd prize, like me, our mountain rills,
Nor lear the torrent swells ;
e spot
How proud or poor the dome,
Love still re! less chains.
That binds the hear; to home.
Love still retains some deathless chains,
That bind3 the heart to home.
58
By the Sad. Sea-Waves.
Copied by permission of Firth, Po.vd k Co., 547 Broadway, publish*
of the niusi:.
By the sad sea-waves
I listen, while they moan
A lament o'er graves
Of hope and pleasure gone.
I am young, I was fair,
I had once not a care
From the rising of the morn
To the setting of the sun.
Yet I pine like a slave,
By the sad sea-wave.
Come again bright days
Of hope and pleasure gone;
Come again, bright days,
Come again, come again.
From my care last night,
By holy sleep beguiled,
In the fair dream-light
My home upon me smiled.
Oh, how sweet 'mid the dew,
Every flower that I knew
Breatned a gentle welcome back
To the worn and weary child I
I wake in my grave
By the sad sea-wave ;
Come again, dear dream,
So peacefully that smiled,
Come again, dear dream,
Come again, come agaia.
59
T>a,ylig-Iit is on tlie Sea.
Copied bj permission of Fif.th. Ponp i- id^sv, X. Y\
publishers < I
D.\^
\ do not si
Land is no place for me,
I n.
My I
roadside laves,
s each oar.
CHORUS.
Daylight is on the sea,
Land is no place for :
Come away, love, come away, lore,
I dare no loi
Come away, love, away, love,
I dare no lot
Come away, away, away, away, away,
I dare no longer stay.
Away, away, away, away, away,
I dare no longer
Da; i o'er the deep,
ile ;
Blue wav ;.ds sleep,
Enchain* d awhile !
My bark is or. the waves.
My be
The >le laves,
While sleeps each oar.
Daylight is on the sea, &c
60
.Kate -was once a Little
G-irl.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 647 Broadway, X. Y.,
publishers of the music.
Kate was once a little girl,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
Eyes of blue, and teeth of pearl,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
In the spring, when school was done,
Full of life and full of fun,
O'er the hills away she'd run,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho!
Gentle breezes all the day,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
Through her sunny locks would play,
Heigh ho! heigh ho!
Still on her cheek as brightly play3
The sunshine of her youthful days,
And still as sweet her girlish ways,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho!
Kate's a little older now,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
Still as fair her radiant brow,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho I
All her thoughts are pure and bright,
As the stars we see at night,
Shining with a joyous light,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
Kate will always be the same,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
She'll never change except in name,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
So gently time shall steal away,
Shell always be as bright and gay,
As when she laugh'd in girlhood's day,
Heigh ho ! heigh ho !
61
Kitty Tyrrell.
Gopi&d by permission of Fip.tft, Po.vn, k Co., 547 Broadway, N. Y-
publishers of the music
TouVc looking as fresh as the morn, darling,
You're looking as bright as the day ;
But while on your charms Tin dilating,
You're stealing my poor heart away.
But keep it and welcome, mavourneen,
Its loss Tin not going to mourn ;
Yef. one heart's enough for a body,
So pray give me yours in return.
Mavourneen, mavourneen,
Oh ! pray give me yours in return.
Tve Wilt me a neat little cot, darling,
I've pig3 and potatoes in store ;
I've twenty good pounds in the bank, love,
And may be, a pound or two more.
It's all very well to have riches,
But I'm such a covetous elf,
[ can't help still sighing for something,
And, darling, tfiat something's yourself.
Mavourneen, mavourueen,
a.nd that something, you know, is yourself.
TouVc smiling, and that's a good sign, darling;
Say '•Yes," and you'il never repent;
It, if you would rather be silent,
Your silence I'll take for co:
rhat good-natured dimple's a tell-tale,
Now all that I have is your own,
This week you may be Kitty Tyrrell,
Next week you'il be Mistress Malone.
Mavourneen, mavourneen,
TouUl be my own Mistress Malone.
63
Within a mile of Edinboro' Town.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers*
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
'Twas within a mile of Edinboro' town,
In the rosy time of the year,
Sweet flowers bloom' d and the grass was down,
And each shepherd woo'd his dear ;
Bonny Jocky blithe and gay,
Kiss'd sweet Jenny makin' hay,
The lassie blush' d and frowning cried,
No, no, it will not do, I can not, can not, wonnot,
wonnot, monnot buckle too.
Jocky was a wag that never would wed,
Though long he had followed the lass,
Contented she earn'd and eat her brown bread,
And merrily turned up the grass.
Bonny Jocky blithe and free,
Won her heart right merrily ;
Yet still she blush' d and frowning cried, etc.
But when he vow'd he would make her his bride,
Though his flocks and herds were not few,
She gave him her hand and a kiss beside,
And vow'd she'd forever be true.
Bonny Jocky, blithe and free ;
Won her heart right merrily ;
At church she no more frowning cried, etc.
I am a Freeman.
I am a freeman ! 'Tis my boast and pride,
The blue sky is o'er me, the dark soil beneath,
And spreading around is the wilderness wide ;
My bath is the lake, my couch is the heath,
My rod and my rifle my larder provide —
I am a freeman ! 'Tis my boast and my pride.
I am a freeman ! True freedom is mine ;
I slay when I choose, yet spare when I will ;
For my food use the bullet, or cast out the line,
But never, like fools, from wantonness kill.
My " roof-tree " is lofty, my dining-hall wide —
I am a freeman ! 'Tis my boast and my pride.
cs
The eagle above me soars lofty and free,
He knows that Til speed no bullet at him —
He is game for a tyrant, but never for me,
While he sits on his nest on that old pine limb.
A life in the woods some men may deride.
But freedom is there, my boast and my pride.
I roam through the wild-wood or skim o'er the lake,
My wreaths are of laurel, my plumes never fade ;
I sleep when the night falls, with the dawn am awake,
To hunt the red deer while they feed in the glade.
I'm joyous and free as a bird of the air —
A son of the forest, a stranger to care.
Would I Were "With Thee*
"Would I were with thee, ev'ry day and hour
"Which now I pass so sadly far from thee,
Would that mv form possess' d the magic power
To follow wliere my heavy heart would be ;
Whate'er thy lot o'er land or sea,
Would I were with thee eternally.
Would I were with thee, when the world forgetting
Thy weary limbs upon the turf are thrown,
While bright and red our evening sun is setting,
And alHhy thoughts belong to heaven alone ;
While happy dreams thy thoughts employ,
Would I were with thee in thy joy.
Would I were with thee, when no longer feigning
The hurried laugh, that stifles back a sigh,
When thy young lip pours forth its sweet complaining,
And tears have quenched the light within thine eye ;
When all seems dark and sad below,
Would I were with thee in thy woe.
Would I were with thee, when the day is breaking,
And when the moon has lit the lonely sea,
Or when in crowds some careless note awaking,
Speaks to thy heart in memory of me ;
[n joy, or pain, by sea, or shore,
Would I were with thee evermore
64
Old Uncle Edward.
There formerly might hare been seen an aged colored indi-
vidual,
Whose cognomen was Uncle Edward,
He departed this life some time since, some time since,
And he had no capillary substance on the summit of his
cranium,
On the place designed by nature for the capillary to vegetate.
CfrORU8.
Then lay down the agricultural implements,
Allow the violin and the bow to be pendent on the wall.—
For there is no more physical energy to be displayed by in-
digent aged Edward,
For he has departed to the abode designated by a kind Prov-
idence for all pious, humane, and benevolent m
dividuals.
Uncle Edward had digits equal in longitude to the
Bamboo formation which springs so spontaneously on tb*
bank of the Southern Mississippi,
And he had no oculars with which to observe
The beauties of nature,
And he had no dental formations with which to
Masticate the Indian meal cake,
Consequentl}'- he was forced to permit the
Indian meal cake to pass by with impunity.
Chorus. — Then lay down, &c.
"When Uncle Ned relinquished his hold on vitality,
His master was exceedingly grieved,
And the lachrymal poured down his cheeks similar to
the ruin from heaven,
For he knew that the old man was laid beneath terra
firma, terra fir ma,
He would never have the pleasure of beholding the
physiognomy of the aged Edward any more*
Chorus. — Then lay down, &o.
BEADLE'S
Song Book
No. 5.
A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPULAR
COMG AND SENTIMENTAL
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
NTKW YORK: US WILLIAM 9
LONDON: 4-1 PATEBN08TBS ROW.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860,
By IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United S«atesr
for the Southern District of New York.
ft. B. No, *.
CONTENTS.
A dollar or two, - 39
A man's a man fbr a' that, 23
Angel's whisper, .17
Auld lang syne, 16
A Yankee ship and a Yankee crew, - - -19
Bashful young man, 32
Call me pet names, 34
Camptown races, 45
Charity, 30
Cheer," boys, cheer, 15
Comin' thro' the rye, 8
Dermot Astore, 35
DillaBum, 40
Down the burn, Davy, love, - - - - 33
Dumbarton's bonnie "dell, - - - - 30
Ever of thee, 35
Grave of Bonaparte, 51
Gum-tree canoe, 7
Hark, I hear an angel sing, 36
I'd offer thee this hand of mine, - 6
In the days when I was hard up, - - - - 53
John Anderson, my Jo, John, 37
Johnny was a shoemaker, 44
Kind relations, ------- 58
Last week I took a wife, 29
Mary of Argyle, 20
Meet me by moonlight, 13
Napolitaine, 27
Norah M' Shane, 17
Nothing else to do, - - - • - - 25
Och, Paddy, is it yerself ? 59
Oft in the stilly night, 21
Roll on, silver moon, 20
Sambo, I hare missed you, • • • • tffl
5
It contents.
PAGE.
Sammy Slap, the bill-sticker, 22
Something to love me, ---*•- 23
Still so gently o'er me stealing, - ... 9
The gambler's wife, 60
The gay cavalier, 28
The grave of Uncle True, 38
The ingle side, 26
The Irish emigrant's lament, .... 63
The ivy green, 57
The lass that loves a sailor, .... 52
The last rose of summer, 18
The lily of the West, 48
The minute gun at sea, 62
The monks of old, 31
The musical wife, 54
The ocean burial, 61
The old aim-chair, 50
The poor little fisherman's girl, 41
The rat-catcher's daughter, 14
The rose of Allendale, 12
The tail iv me coat, 56
The watched, 49
Thou art gone from my gaze, - - - - 13
Thou hast wounded the spirit, - 9
'Tis midright hour, 26
Twilight dews, 27
Umbrella courtship, 47
Wake, Dinah, wake, 46
Washington, star of the West, - - - - 24
We'll have a little dance to-night, boys, - - 43
We met by chance, 10
When I saw pweet Nellie home, - 5
When the swallows homeward fly, - - - 11
William e'tln ferry, ------ 42
Will fou ,9 vt me then as now? - • • - 11
5
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK,
No. 5.
When I saw Street IVellie
Home.
Copied by permission of Russell & Tolmax, 192 "Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
In the sky the bright stars glitter'd,
On the grass the moonlight fell,
Hush'd the sound of daylight bustle,
Closed the pink-eyed Pimpernel.
As adown the moss-grown wood path
Where the cattle love to roam,
From Aunt Dinah's quilting-party,
I was seeing Nellie home.
Chorus. — In the sky the bright stars glitter'd,
On the grass the moonlight shonef
From Aunt Dinah's quilting-party
I was seeing Nellie home.
When the autumn tinged the green -wood,
Turning all its leaves to gold,
In the lawn by the elders shaded,
I my love to Nellie told.
On the star-bespangled dome,
How I blest the August evening,
As we stood together gazing,
When I saw sweet Nellie home.
In the sky, &c.
White hairs mingled with my tresses,
Furrows stealing on my br
But a love smile cheers and blesses
Life's declining moments now.
Matron in the snowy kerchief,
Closer to my bosom come,
Tell me, dost thou still remember
When I saw thee, sweet Nellie home ?
In the sky, &c.
IM offer Thee this Hand of
IVline.
Pd offer thee this hand of mine
If I could love thee less,
But hearts as warm and pure as thine
Should never know distress.
My fortune is too hard for thee,
'T would chill thy dearest .joys;
Pd rather weep to see thee free,
Than win thee to destroy.
I'd offer thee, &c.
I'll leave thee in thy happiness
As one too dear to love ;
As one I think on but to bless
As wretchedly I rove ;
And oh ! when sorrow's cup I drink
All bitter though it be,
How sweet t'will be for me to think
It holds no drop for thee.
I'd offer thee, &c.
But now my dreams are sadly o'er,
Fate bids them all depart,
And I must leave my native shore
In brokenness of heart ;
And oh ! dear one, when far from thee,
I'll ne'er know joy again ;
I would not that one thought of me
Should give thy bosom pain.
I'd offer the6, &c
i
Gum-Tree Canoe.
Copied by permission of Russell, & Tglmax, 291 Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
On Tom bigbee river, so bright, I was born,
In a hut made ob husks ob de tall yaller corn ;
An1 dar I fust met wid my Jula so true,
An* I row'd her about in my Gum-tree canoe.
CHORUS.
Singing row away, row,
O'er de waters so blue,
Like a feather we'll float,
In my Gum-tree canoe.
All de day in de field de soft cotton I hoe,
I tink of my Jula, an' sing as I go ;
Oh, I catch her a bird wid a wing ob true blue,
An* at night sail her round in my Gum-tree canoe.
Singing row away, row, &c.
"Wid my hands on de banjo, and toe on de oar,
I sing to de sound ob de riber's soft roar,
"While de stars dey look down on my Jula so true,
An' dance in her eye in my Gum-tree canoe.
Singing row away, row, &c.
But one night de stream bore us so far away,
Dat we couldn't cum back, so we thought we'd jis stay,
Oh, we spied a tall ship wid a flag ob true blue,
An' it took us in tow wid my Gum-tree canoe.
Singing row away, row, &c.
Comin' thro' the Rye.
Gin a body meet a body,
Comin' thro' the rye ;
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry ?
Ilka lassie has her laddie,
Nane they say ha'e I ;
Yet a' the lads they smile at me,
And what the waur am I?
Gin a body meet a body
Comin' frae the well,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body tell ?
Ilka lassie has her laddie,
Ne'er a ane ha'e I ;
But a' the lads they smile on me,
And what the waur am I ?
Gin a body meet a body,
Comin' frae the town ;
Gin a body greet a body,
Need a body frown ?
Ilka lassie has her laddie,
Nane, they say, ha'e I ;
But a' the lads they lo'e me weelj
And what the waur am I ?
Thou liast Wounded the
Spirit.
^ ■ 9 ■ m
Thou hast wounded the spirit that loved thee,
And cherished thine image for years ;
Thou hast taught me at last to forget thee,
In secret, in silence, and tears,
As a young bird, when left by its mother ,
Its earliest pinions to try,
'Round the nest will still lingering hover,
Ere its trembling wings can fly.
Thus we're taught in this cold world to smother
Each feeling that once was so dear ;
Like that young bird, I'll seek to discover
A home of affection elsewhere.
Tho' this heart may still cling to thee fondly,
And dream of sweet memories post,
Tet Hope, like the rainbow of summer,
Gives a promise of Lethe at last.
Still so Grently o'er me
Stealing*.
^ ■ m ■ ^
Still so gently o'er me stealing,
Mem'ry will bring back the feeling
Spite of all my grief, revealing
That I love thee, that I dearly love thee still,
Tho' some other swain may charm thee,
Ah ! no other e'er can warm me —
Yet ne'er fear, I will not harm thee,
No ! thou false one, no, no ! I fondly love thee still.
Ah ! ne'er fear, I will not harm thee,
No, false one, no ! I love the
I love thee, false one, still.
Chorus — Still so gently o'er me stealing, <fcc.
10
We Met by Chance.
When evening brings the twilight hour,
I pass a lonely spot,
Where oft she comes to cull the flower,
We call " Forget-me-not."
She never whispers go, nor stay ;
She never whispers go, nor stay ;
We met by chance, the usual way,
We met by chance, the usual way
We met by chance,
We met by chance,
We met by chance, the usual way.
Once, how, I can not well divine,
Unless by chance we kiss'd,
I found her lips were close to mine,
So I could not resist ;
As neither whisper'd yea, nor nay,
As neither whisper'd yea, nor nay,
They met by chance, the usual way,
They met by chance, the usual way,
They met by chance,
They met by chance,
They met by chance, the usual way.
^tie roses, when the zephyrs woo,
Impart what they receive ;
They sigh and sip the balmy dew,
But never whisper give.
Our love is mutual, this we know,
Our love is mutual, this we know,
Though neither tells the other so,
Though neither tells the other so ;
Our love is mutual, this we know,
Though neither tells the other so.
11
"When the Swallows
Homeward Fly.
When the swallows homeward fly,
When the roses scatter'd lie.
When from neither hill or dale,
Chaunts the silvery nightingale.
CHORUS.
In these words my bleeding heart
Would to thee its grief impart :
Shall we ever meet again ?
Parting ! ah ! parting, parting is pain*
Parting ! ah ! parting, parting is pain.
When the white swan southward roves,
There to seek the orange groves,
When the red tints of the west
Prove the sun has gone to rest.
Chorus.— In these words, etc.
O. poor heart ! whate'er befall,
1 here is rest for thee and all,
That on earth which fades away,
Comes again in bright array.
Chorus.— In these words, etc.
Will You Love Me then
as Now.
You have told me that you loved me,
And your heart's thought seems to speak
As you look on me so fondly,
And the life-blood tints your cheek,
May I trust that these warm feelings,
Never will grow cold and strange,
And you'll remain unalter'd
In this weary world of change?
When the shades of care and sorrow,
Dim my eyes and clcud my brow,
And my spirit sinks within me —
Will you love me then as now T
12
Though our youth may pass unclouded
In a peaceful happy home,
Yet as year on year advances,
Changes must upon us come.
For the step will loose its lightness,
And the hair be changed to gray ;
Eyes once bright give up their luster,
And the hopes of youth decay.
When all these have passed upon me,
And stern age has touched my brow,
"Will the change find you unchanging ?
Will you love me then as now ?
The Rose of Allendale.
The morn was fair, the skies were clear,
No breath came o'er the sea,
Where Mary left her highland cot,
And wandered forth with me ;
Though flowers deck'd the mountain's side,
And fragrance filled the vale,
By far the sweetest flower there,
Was the Rose of Allendale.
Where'er I wander'd, east or west,
Though fate began to lower,
A solace still was she to me,
In sorrow's lonely hour ;
When tempest lashed our gallant bark,
And rent her shivering sail,
One maiden form withstood the storm,
•Twas the Rose of Allendale.
And when my fevered lips were parch'd
On Afric's burning sand,
She whisper'd hopes of happiness,
And tales of distant land ;
My life had been a wilderness,
Unblest by fortune's gale,
Had fate not link'd my lot with her'S,
The Rose of Allendale.
13
Meet Me toy Moonlight.
Meet me by moonlight alone,
And then I will tell you a tale
Must be told by the moonlight alone,
In the grove at the end of the vale.
You must promise to come, for I said
I would show the night-flowers their queen-^
Nay, turn not away thy sweet head,
'Tis the loveliest ever was seen.
Oh ! meet me by m oonlight, alone.
Daylight may do for the gay,
The thoughtless, the heartless, the free ;
But there's something about the moon's ray,
That is sweeter to you and to me.
Oh ! remember be sure to be there.
For though dearly a moonlight I prize,
I care not for all in the air,
If I want the sweet light of your eyes.
So meet me by moonlight alone.
Thou art gone from my
Graze.
Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream,
And I seek thee in> vain by the meadow and stream,
Oft I breath thy dear name to the winds rioating by,
But thy sweet voice is mute to my bosom's lone sigh.
In the stillness of night when the stars mildly shine,
My heart fondly holds sweet communion with thine.
For I feel thou art near, and where'er I may be,
That the spirit of love keeps a watch over me.
14
ter#
Not long ago in Vestminster there lived a rat-catcher's daughter,
And yet she didnH live in Vestminster, vcause she loved tother side
of the water,
Her father caught rats— and she sold sprats all about and around that
quarter,
And the gentle folks all took off their hats to the putty little Rat.
catcher's daughter.
CHORUS.— Doodle dee,
Doodle dum,
Di dum doodle da.
Now, rich and poor, both far and near, in matrimony sought her :
But at triends and foes turn'd up her nose, did the putty little Rat,
catcher s daughter.
For there was a man, sold lily vite sand, in Cupid's net had
caught her,
And right over head and ears in love vent the putty little Rat_
catcher's daughter.
Now lilj vite sand ran in her 'ead, as she went along Strand, oh,
She forgot as she'd got sprats on her 'ead and cried, D'ye you want
any lily vite sand, oh ?
The folks amaz'd all thought her craz'd, as she went along the Strand,
oh,
To see a gal with sprats on her 'ead, cry, D'ye vant any lily vhite
sand, oil ?
Now Rat-catchers's daughter so ran in his 'ead, he couldn't tell vat
he va3 arter,
So, instead of crying, D'ye vant any sand? he cried^ D'ye vant
any Rat-catcher's, daughter ?
His donkey cock'd his ears and laughed, and couldn't think vat he vas
arter,
Ven he heard his lady vite sandman cry, D'ye vant any Rat-catch-
er's daughter ?
They both agreed to married be upon next Easter Sunday,
But Rat-catcher's daughter, she had a dream that she wouldn't be
alive on Monday
She vent vonce more to buy some sprats, and she tumbled into the
water,
And down to the bottom, all kiver'd with mud, vent the putty little
Rat-catcher's daughter.
Ven Lilly vite sand 'e 'eard the news, his eyes ran down with vater,
Said 'e, In love I'll constaut prove, and— blow me if I'll live long
arter.
t$o he cut 'is throat with a pane of glass, and stabb'd 'is donkey arter
So'ereia an end of lily vite sand, donkey, and the Rat-catcher'a
daughter.
15
Cheer, Boys, Cheer.
Cheer, boys, cheer, no more of idle sorrow,
Courage, true hearts shall bear us on our way,
Hope points before, and shows a bright to-murrow,
Let us forget the darkness of to-day.
Then farewell England, much as we may love the*,
We'll dry the tears that we have shed before ;
We'll not weep to sail in search of fortune,
Then farewell England, farewell evermore.
CHORUS.
Then cheer, boys, cheer for England, mother England,
Cheer, boys, cheer for the willing strong right haud,
Cheer boys, cheer, there's wealth for honest labor,
Cheer, boys, cheer for the new and happy land.
Cheer, boys, cheer, the steady breeze is blowing,
To float us freely o'er the ocean's breast,
And the world shall follow in the track we're going ;
The star of empire glitters in the West,
We've had a toil, and little to reward it,
But there shall plenty smile upon our pain,
And ours shall be the prairie and the forest,
And boundless meadows ripe with golden grain.
CHORUS.
Then cheer, boys, cheer for England, mother England,
Cheer, boys, cheer, united heart and hand ;
Cheer, boys, cheer, there's wealth for honest lab©r,
Cheer, boys, cheer for th« new and happy land.
16
.Ajuld Lang- Syne.
Skould auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,'
And days of Auld Lang Syne ?
CHORUS.
For Auld Lang Syne, my dear,
For Auld Lang Syne ;
We'll take a cup of kindness yet,
Fo~ A-uld Lang Syne.
We Wa ha'e run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine ;
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot),
Sin Auld Lang Syne.
For Auld Lang Syne, &c.
We twa ha'e paid let i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid ha'e roar'd,
Sin Auld Lang Syne.
For Auld Lang Syne, &c.
And there's a hand my trusty feire,
An' gi'es a hand o' thine ;
«in' we'll take a right gude willie wau^ht,
For Auld Lang Syne.
For Auld Lang Syne, &c.
And surely you'll be your pint stoup.
And surely I'll be mine ;
And. we'll tak' a cup o' lqndness yet,
For Auld Lang Syne.
For Auld Lang Syne, &c.
17
Norah M'Sliane.
fvc left Ballymornach a long way behind me,
la oetter ray fortune I've crossed the big sea;
But I'm sadly alone, not a creature to mind me,
Apd faith I'm as wretched as wretched can be,
I thi, k of the buttermilk, fresh as the daisy,
Tht beautiful halls and the emerald plain,
And, ah ! don't I oftentimes think myself crazy
About that black-eyed rogue, Norah M'shane.
I si^h for the turf-pile so cheerfully burning,
A\ hen barefoot I trudged it from toiling afar,
When I tossed in the light the thirteen I'd been earning,
And whistled the tune of " Erin go Brah."
In truth, I believe that I'm half -broken hearted,
To my country and love I must go back again
For I've never been happy at all since I parted
From sweet Ballymornach and Norah M'Shane.
Oh ! there's something so dear in the cot I was born in,
Tho' the walls are but mud and the roof is but thatch ;
How familiar the grunt of the pigs in the morning,—
What music in lifting the rusty old latch !
'Tis true I'd no money, but then I'd no sorrow,
My pockets were light, but my head had no pain ;
And if I but live till the sun shines to-morrow,
I'll be off to dear Erin and Norah M'Shane.
Angels' "Whisper.
A baby was sleeping.
Its mother was weeping,
For her husband was far o'er the wide raging sea,
And the tempest was swelling,'
Round the fisherman's dwelling,
And she cried, M Derniot, darling, oh, come back to me !"
Her beads while she numbered,
The baby still slumbered,
And smiled in her face as she bended her knee ;
" Oh ! bless'd be that warning^
My child thy sleep adorning,
For I know that the angels are whispering to the©.
13
"And while they are keeping
Bright watch o'er thy sleeping,
Oh, pray to them safely, my babe with me ;
And say thou would'st rather
They'd watch o'er thy father,
For I know that the angels are whispering to thee."
The dawn of the morning
Saw Dermont returning,
And the wife wept with joy the babe's father to see,
And closely caressing
The child, with a blessing,
Said, "I knew that the angels were whispering to thee.'
The Last Rose of Summer,
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone ;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone :
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.
.I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,
To pine on the stem ;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go sleep thou with them ;
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay, .
And from love's shining circle
The gems drop away ;
WTien true hearts lie withered,
And fond hopes are flown.
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?
\ "Yankee Sliip, and. a Yan-
kee Crew.
A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew,
Tally hi ho ! you know !
0>r the bright blue waves like a sea-bird flew,
Singing hey ! aloft and alow !
Her sails are spread to the fairy breeze !
The spray as sparkling thrown from her prow,
Her flag is the proudest that floats on the seas,
"When homeward she's steering now !
A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew,
Tally hi ho ! you know !
"With hearts aboard, both gaUant and true,
The same aloft and alow,
The blackening sky, and the whistling wind,
Foretell the approach of a gale,
And a home and its joys flits over each mind ;
Husbands, lovers, on deck there ! a sail !
A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew,
Tally hi ho ! you know !
Distress is the word, God speed them through.
Bear a hand aloft and alow !
A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew,
Tally hi ho ! you know !
Freedom defends the land where it grew,
"We're free aloft and alow !
Bearing down on a ship, in regal pride,
Defiance floating at each mast-head ;
She's wreck'd, and the one that floats alongside,
The stars and stripes that's to victory wed.
A Yankee ship, and a Yankee crew,
Tally hi ho 1 you know !
Ke'er strikes to a foe while the sky is blue,
Or a tar aloft and alow )
20
Roll on Silver Moon.
As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
About the beginning of June,
'Neath'a jessamine shade I espied a fair maid,
And she sadly complained to the moon. 5 " ~
Roll on silver moon, guide the traveler's way,
When the nightingale's song is in tune,
But never, never more with my lover I'll stray.
By thy sweet silver light, bonny moon.
Roll on, etc.
As the hart on the mountain my lover was brave,
So handsome, so manly, and clever ;
So kind and sincere, and he loved me so dear,
Oh, Edwin, thy equal was never.
But now he is dead, and gone to death's bed,
He's cut down like a rose in full bloom ;
He's fallen asleep, and poor Jane's left to weep,
Bv the sweet silver light of the moon.
Roll on, etc.
But his grave I'll seek out until morning appears,
And weep for my lover so brave,
I'll embrace the cold turf and wash with my tears
The flowers that bloom o'er his grave;
But never again shall my bosom know joy,
With my Edwin I hope to be soon ;
Lovers shall weep o'er the grave where we »ieep,
By thy sweet silver light, bonny moon^
Roll on, etc.
Mary of Argyle.
I have heard the mavis singing,
His love-song to the morn,
I have seen the dew-drops clinging,
To the rose just newly born;
But a sweeter song has cheered me,
At the evening's gentle close,
21
I have seen an eye still brighter,
Than the dew-drops on the rose —
'Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary,
And thine artless, winning smile
That made this world an Eden,
Bonny Mary of Argyle.
Though thy voice may lose its sweetness,
And thine eye its brightness, too,
Though thy step may lose its fleetnees,
And thy hair its sunny hue,
Still to me shalt thou be dearer,
Than all the world can own,
I have loved thee for thy beauty,
But not for that alone,—
I have watched thy heart, dear Mary,
And its goodness was the wile,
That has made thee mine forever,
Bonny Mary of Argyle.
Oft in the Stilly Night.
Oft in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond mem'ry brings the light "
Of other days around me ;
The smiles the tears of childhood's years,
The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone, now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken !
Thus in the stilly night, etc
When I remember all
The friends so linked together,
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in winter weather,
I feel like one who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled, whose garlands deafl,
And all but he departed.,
Thus in the stilly night, eU.
22
Sammy Sl»p9 tlie Bill-
(Stickex*.
I'm Sammy Slap, the bill-sticker, and you must all agree, sirsT
1 sticks to business like a trump, and business sticks to me,
sirs ;
The low folks call me plasterer, but they deserve a banging,
Because, genteelly speaking, why my trade is paper-hanging,
Chorus. — With my paste, paste, paste,
Oh, all the world is puffing,
So I paste, paste, paste.
All 'round about the city now, when anything's the go, sirs,
You'll always find me at my post, a sticking up the posters ;
I've hung Is'ed Forrest twelve feet high, and did it, sirs, quite
easy ;
And I've been engaged, too, lately, both by Mario and Grisi.
Chorus. — With my paste, &c.
I'm not like some in our trade, they deserve their jackets
laced, sirs,
They stick up half their bosses bills, and sells the rest for
waste, sirs ; »
Now honesty's best policy, with a good name to retire with,
So what I doesn't use myself — my old girl lights the fire with.
Chorus. — With my paste, &c.
Sometimes I'm jobbing for the church with charitable ser-
mons,
And sometimes for the theatres, the English and the Ger-
mans ;
To me, of course, no odds it is, so long as I'm a winner —
Whether I sticks up for a saint, or hangs up for a sinner.
Chorus. — With my paste, &c.
There's Jenny Lind, I'm proud to say — sweet music's great
adorn er,
I've had the honor of posting her in every hole and corner ;
Alboni, too, so nice and plump, I've stuck her up that's cer-
tain—
And I've plastered Mrs. Mowatt, right on top of Billy Burton.
Chorus. — With my paste, &c.
Well now before I say good-bye, permit me to remind ye,
That round about the city here, you're always sure to find me ;
And if ever you shall have a job — to show how I deserve ye,
About the town, through thick and thin, I'll brush along to
serve ye.
Chorus. — With my paste, &c.
23
A. Marias a, IMslxx fox* a? Tba*
Is there for honest poverty,
That hangs his head, and a' that ?
The coward slave we pass hirn by,
We dare be puir for a' that.
For a* that and a' that,
Our toil's obscure and a' that,
The rank is but a guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.
Whist though on namely fare we dine,
Wear hodden gray and a' that ?
Qie f&ols their silks and knaves their wine
A mm's a man for a' that.
Fa- a' that and a' that,
1 heir tinsel show and a' that ;
Th< honest man though e'en sae puir,
I! king o' men for a' that.
Then let m pray that come it may,
As comft it will for a7 that ;
That sense and worth o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that.
For a' tha.j and a' that ;
It's corring yet for a* that ;
That man to man the warld o'er,
fc>hall bribers be for a that
Something to Love M©-
Something to love me, sa-saething to bless,
Something to smile upon and to caress ;
Something to fill up the void in my heart,
That will not, when sorrow forces o'er me, depart
Something that loves not as summer friends love.
As true as the 6tar in the blue realms above ;
Something with instinct enough to believe,
That will not, like most of earth's proud ones, deceiv<
Something to love me, something to bless,
Something to smile upon and to caress ;
24
Something to fill up the void in my heart,
That will not, when sorrow comes o'er me, depart.
Something to love me, something to pet,
Something that kindness can never forget ;
Something that clings to me, even a bird,
In whose sweet music reproach is not heard.
Something to cheer me, and stay by my side,
That never will leave me, whate'er may betide,
That I may still in this hollow world find, ^
There's something still left to be loving and kind.
Something to love me, something to bless,
Something to smile upon and to caress ;
Something to fill up the void in my heart,
That will not, when sorrow comes o'er me, depart.
Washington, Star of the West.
There's a Star in the West that will never go down,
Till the records of valor decay ;
We may worship its light, for it is our own.
And liberty bursts in its ray.
Shall the name of Washington ever be heard
By a freeman, and thrill not his breast ?
Is there one out of bondage that hails not the name
Of Washington, Star of the West ?
War ! war to the knife — be enthralled till ye die !
Was the echo that waked up the land ;
But it was not this frenzy that prompted the cry, (
Nor rashness that kindled the brand.
He threw back the fetters, he headed the strife,
Till man's charter was firmly restored ;
Then he prayed for the moment when liberty and life
Would no longer be pressed by the sword.
Oh ! his laurels were pure, and his patriot name
In the pages of the future shall dwell,
And be seen in all annals, the foremost in fame,
By the side of a Hoffer and Tell.
Then cherish his memory, the brave and the good,
At Mount Yernon the hero now rests ;
Peace, peace to his fishes, our father is deadl
Great Washington, Star of the West !
25
T^othLing" Else to Do.
Copied by permission of Russell k Tolmav, 192 Washington St.,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
The summer is ended, the harvest is gone,
I've mowed all my meadows, I've housed all my corn ;
And sweet Katie's cottage stood fair to my view,
And so I went a courting, I'd nothing else to do.
Nothing else to do,
Nothing else to do,
And so I went a courting,
For Fd nothing else to do.
I met my sweet Katie, and down we did sit,
And there we commenced a murmuring chat,
I told her I loved her, to try if she loved too,
I kiss'd her sweet lips, for I'd nothing else to do.
Nothing else to do, &c.
Oh, down to yonder village we straight took our way,
We met Father Hagan so honest and gay ;
I gave him his fees to make one of us two,
And so we got married, we'd nothing else to do.
Nothing else te do. &c.
And now I'm married, and live in content,
And those I left behind me, I leave to lament ;
I love my parents and friends, that is true,
And somebody else, when I've nothing else to do.
Nothing else to do, &c.
'Tis well to remember and bear in mind,
A constant companion is hard for to find ;
And when you find one that is constant and true,
Cherish her even if you've something else to do.
Nothing else to do, &c.
26
5Tis Midjaiglit Hour.
^Tis midnight hour, the moon shines bright,
The dew-drops play beneath her ray ;
The twinkling stars their trembling light,
Like beauty's eyes display.
Then sleep no more, though 'round thy heart
Some tender dream may idly play,
For midnight song with magic art,
Shall chase that dream away.
Tis midnight hour, from flower to flower
The wayward zephyr floats along,
Or lingers in some shady bower,
To hear the night-bird's song.
Then sleep no more, though 'round thy heart
Some tender dpeam may idly play,
For midnight song with magic art,
Shall chase that dream away.
The Ingle Side.
It's rare to see the morning breeze,
Like a bonfire frae the sea ;
It's fair to see the burnie kiss,
The lip o' the flowery lea.
An' fine it is on green hillside,
Where hums the busy bee ;
But rarer, fairer, finer far,
Is the Ingle side for me.
Glens may be gilt wi' gowans fair,
The birds may fill the tree ;
And haughs hae a' the scented ware,
That simmer growth can gie ;
But the canty hearth where cronies meeV
An' the darling o' our e'e,
That makes to us a warld complete —
©h i the Ingle side for me.
27
Twilight X>ews-
•-♦-.
When twilight dews are falling fast,
Upon the ro?y sea ;
I watch that star whose beams so oft
Hath litghted me to thee.
And thou, too, one that was so dear,
Ah! dost thou gaze at even,
And think, though lost forever here,
Thou'lt yet be mine in Heaven ?
There's not a garden walk I tread,
There's not a flower I see —
But brings to mind some hope that's fled,
Some joy I've lost with thee.
And now I wish that hour was near,
When friends and foes forgiven —
The pains, the ills we've wept through here,
May turn to smiles in heaven.
IV apolit aine .
Xapolitaine, I am dreaming of thee,
I'm hearing thy foot-falls so joyous and free,
Thy dark, flashing eyes are intwining me yet,
Thy voice with its music I ne'er can forget;
I'm far from the land of thy own sunny home,
Alone in this wide world with sorrow I roam ;
In the halls of the gay or wherever it be,
Still Xapolitaine, I'm dreaming of thee.
Napolitaine, art thou thinking of me ?
Hath absence not banished my memory from thee?
Remember our meetings, their whispers to keep,
When bright eyes were calling all lovers to sleep?
And yet would I not have a shade on thy brow,
As bright as though 'twere lit is thine on m.e now,
For 'tis memory that brings all thy beauty to me ;
Still, Xapolitaine, I'm dreaming of thee,
Napolitaine, I'm dreaming of thee,
tfapolitaia^ I'm dreaming of thee.
28
The Gay Cavalier.
*Twas a beautiful night, and the stars shone bright,
And the moon o'er the waters played,
When a gay cavalier to a bower drew near,
A maid to serenade ;
To tenderest words he swept the chords,
And many a sigh heaved he,
While o'er and o'er he fondly swore,
Sweet maid I love but thee.
Sweet maid, sweet maid, } p .
Sweet maid I love but thee. \ repeat.
He raised his eyes to her lattice high,
"While he softly breathed his hopes,
"With amazement he sees, swing about in the breeze,
Already a ladder of ropes, j
Up, up he has gone, the bird is flown,
" What is this on the ground ?" quoth he ;
"Oh it's plain that she loves, here's some gentleman'*
gloves,
She ia off, and it's not with me."
For these gloves, these gloves, ) Rg
They never belonged to me. ) F
Of course you'd have thought he'd have followed an<S
fought,
As that was a dueling age,
But this gay cavalier, he quite scorned the idea
Of putting himself in a rage ;
More wise by far, he put up his guitar,
And as homeward he went, sung he,
" When a lady elopes down a ladder of ropes.
She may go to Hong Kong for me."
She may go, she may go, ) Repeat.
She may go to Hong Kong for me. ) *
29
Last Week I Took a "Wife,
Last week I took a wife,
And when I first did woo her,
I vow'd to stick through life,
Like Cooler's wax unto her,
But soon we went to some mishap,
To loggerheads together,
And when my wife began to strap,
"Why I began to leather.
Fal lal de ral lal lal de ral lal ra,
Oh, I began to leather.
My wife without her shoes,
Is hardly three feet seven,
And I to all Men's views,
Am full five feet eleven.
So when to take her down some pegs,
I drubb'd her neat and clever;
She made a bolt right through my legs,
And ran away forever.
"When she was gone, good lack !
My hair like hog's hair bristle,
I thought she'd ne'er come back,
So went to work and whistled.
Then let her go, I've got my stall,
"Which may no robber rifle,
TT would break my heart to lose my awl.
To lose my wife's a trifle.
30
XHuxibartoix9:** Bonnie X>ell-
There's no a nook in a the land,
By mountain, moss or fell,
There's naething half sae canty, grand
As blithe Dumbarton's dell.
And wou'd you speir the reason why,
The truth I'll fairly tell.
A winsome lassie lives hard by
Dumbarton's bourne dell.
Up by yon glen Loch Lomond *aves,
And bold Macgregors dwell,
"Where bogles dance o'er heroe's graves,
There lives Dumbarton's belle.
She's blest with every charm in life,
And this I know full well,
I'll ne'er be happy, till my wife,
Is blithe Dumbarton's belle.
Cfo.ajrity.
Meek and lowly, pure and holy,
Chief among the blessed three,
Turning sadness into gladness,
Heaven -born art thou, Charity !
Pity dwelleth in thy bosom ;
Kindness reigneth o'er thy heart -m
Gentle thoughts alone can sway thee^
Judgment hath in thee no part.
Hoping ever, failing never;
Though deceived, believing still ;
Long abiding, all confiding
To thy Heavenly Father's will ;
Never weary of well-doing,
$ever fearful of the end ;
Claiming all mankind as brothers,
Thou dost all alike befriend.
31
The Monks of old.
Many have told of the monks of old,
What a saintly race they were,
But 'tis most true, that a merrier crew
Could scarce be found elswhere !
For they sung and laugh' d, and the rich wine quaff* d,
And lived on the daintiest cheer !
For they laugh' d ha ! ha ! and they quaff d ha ! ha I
And lived on the daintiest cheer !
And then they would jest at the love confess' d
By many an artless Maid,
And what hopes and fears they had breath'd in the ears,
Of those who had sought their aid !
And they sung and laugh'd, and the rich wine quaff d,
As they told of each love-sick jade !
And they laugh'd ha ! ha ! and they quaiFd ha ! ha J
As they told of each love-sick jade !
And the Abbot meek, with his form so sleek,
Was the heartiest of them all ;
And would take his place with a smiling face,
When refection bell would call !
When they sung and laugh'd, and the rich wine quafFd,
Till they shook the olden wall !
And they laugh'd ha ! ha ! and they quaiFd ha ! ha !
Till they shook the olden wall !
Then say what they will, we'll drink to them still,
For a jovial band they were !
And 'tis most true, that a merrier crew
Could not be found elswhere !
For they sung and laugh'd, &c.
83
Bashful Young Man.
They say I shall get over it, but no, I never can ;
You've no conception what it is to be a bashful man ;
I — I — oh dear, I quite forget what I was going to say,
But would the ladies be so good as look another way ?
I'd give — I don't know what I'd not, if it were not the case,
But it's a fact — I can not look a lady in the face ;
I'd rather face — I would, indeed — I know I am a fool —
I'd rather face a crocodile, than meet a ladies' school.
At parties, when, like other men, I'm ask'd if I won't dance,
I blush and fidget with my gloves, and wish myself in France,
And while I'm standing stammering, and hanging down
my head,
Some sandy-whisker'd coxcomb leads the lady out instead.
I did just touch a lady's hand, last night, in a quadrille.
Oh, goodness, how my heart did beat! it's palpitating still.
While my young brother, fresh from school, to show you
how I'm teaz'd,
Said, "Frank, why what a 'muff' you are, girls like theip
fingers squeez'd."
Bow am I to get married ? I shall never have a wife,
I could never make an offer, I'm convinced, to save my life :
There's the "quizzing" by the sisters, and the "questions"
by mamma,
And the " pumping" that one goes through, in the study,
by papa ;
Then there's that horrid honey-moon, the journey with a
bride,
And grinning post-boys looking back, and no one else in-
side ;
Oh my, the very thought of it quite takes away my breath,
I'm certain, at the wedding, I should blush myself te
death.
as
Do^ti tlie Burn, Davyf
Love.
When trees did bud, and fields were greea,
And broom bloom'd fair to see ;
"When Mary was complete fifteen,
And love laugh' d in her e'e, —
Blithe Davy's blinks her heart did move
To speak her mind thus free,
" Gang down the burn, Daw, love,
And I will follow thee."
Kow Davy did each lad surpass
That dwelt on this burn side,
And Mary was the bonniest lass,
Just meet to be a bride.
Blithe Davy's blinks her heart did move
To speak her mind thus free,
" Gang down the burn, Davy, love,
And I will follow thee."
Her cheeks were ro?y, red, and white-
Her een was bonny blue,
Her locks were like Aurora bright,
Her lips like dropping dew.
Blithe Davy's blinks her heart did mo*»
To speak her mind thus free,
" Gang down the burn, Daw, love,
And I will follow thee."
As fate had dealt to him a routh,
Straight to the kirk he led her ;
There plight' d her his faith and trutk,
And a bonny bride he made her ;
Wo more asham'd to own her love,
Or speak her mind thus free,
"Gang down the burn, Davy, love,
And I will follow thee."
No. 5 2
84
Call Me Pet Names.
Call me pet name&, dearest — call me a bird,
That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word;
That folds its wild wings there, ne'er thinking of flight ->
That tenderly sings there, in loving delight.
0, my sad heart is pining for one fond word!
Call me pet names, dearest— call me thy bird.
Call me fond names, dearest — call me a star,
"Whose smiles beaming welcome thou feelest from lafar ,
Whose light is the clearest, the truest to thee,
When the night-time of sorrow steals over life's sea.
0, trust thy rich bark where its warm rays are !
Call me pet names, darling — call me thy star.
Call me sweet names, darling — call me a flower,
That lives in the light of thy smile each hour ;
That droops when its heaven, thy love, grows cold ;
That shrinks from the wick'd, the false, and bold ;
That blooms for thee only, through sunlight and shower
Call me pet names, darling — call me a flower.
Call me dear names, darling — call me thine own;'
£pcak to me always in love's low tone ;
Let not thy look nor thy voice grow cold;
Let my fond worship thy being enfold ;
Love me forever, and love me alone ;
Call me pet names, darling — call me thine own.
35
IDermot Astore.
-^«^*-
Oh! Dermot Astore, between waking and sleeping,
I heard thy dear voice, aud I wept to its lay ;
Ivery pulse of my heart the sweet measure was keeping
Til Killarney's wild eehoes had borne it away.
Oh, tell me, my own love, is this our last meeting ?
Shall we wander no more in Killarney's green bowers,
To watch the bright sun o'er the dim hills retreating,
And the wild stag at rest in his bed of spring flowers ?
Chorus. — Oh! Dermot Astore, &c.
Oh ! Dermot Astore, how this fond heart would flutter,
When I met thee by night in a shady boreen,
And heard thine own voice in a soft whisper utter
Those words of endearment, "Mavourneen Colleen."
I know we must part, but oh ! say not forever,
That it may be for years adds enough to my pain ;
But I'll cling to the hope that, though now we must sever,
In some bless' d hour I shall meet thee again*
Chorus. — Oh ! Dermot Astore, &c.
Ever of Thee.
Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming ;
Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer ;
Thou wert the star that, mildly beaming,
Shone o'er my path when all was dark and dresx.
Still in my heart thy form I cherish ;
Every kind thought, like a bird, flies tc &e* ;
Ah ! never, till life and memory perish,
Can I forget how dear thou art to me ;
Morn, noon, and night, where'er I may be,
Fondly I'm dreaming ever of thee,
Fondly I'm dreaming ever of thee.
Ever of thee, when sad and lonely,
Wandering afar, my soul joy'd to dwell ;
Ah ! then I felt I loved thee only ;
All seem'd to fade before affection's spell;
Tears have not chuTd the love I cherish ;
True as the star3 hath my heart been to thw
Ah ! never till lifer &c.
3fi
Hark I Hear an Angel
Sing.
Hark ! I hear an angel sing —
Angels now are on the wing ;
And then- voices singing clear,
Tell us that the Spring is near.
Dost thou hear them, gentle one ?
Dost thou see the glorious sun,
Kising higher in the sky.
As each day, as each day it passes by ?
Chorus. — Hark I hear an angel sing -~
Angels now are on the wing ;
And then* voices singing cleai»
Tell us that the spring is neai.
Just beyond yon cliffs of snow,
Silver rivers brightly flow ;
Smiling woods and fields are seen,
Mantled in a robe of green.
Birds and bees, and brooks, and flowers,
Tell us of all vernal hours.
There the birds are weaving lays,
For the happy, happy Spring-time days.
Look ! oh, look ! the southern sky
Mirrors flowers of every dye ;
Children tripping o'er the plain :
Spring is coming back again —
Spring is coming I shouts of glee;
Singing birds on bush and tree;
And the bees — their merry hums ;
For the Spring-time comes, it comes, it come* !
37
Jolm .xVndex^or^ IMTy -To,
John.
John Anderson, my Jo, John, when mature fir3t began,
To try her canny hand, John, her master-work was man ;
And ye amang them a', John, sac trig- frae top to toe,
She proved to be na' journey-work, John Anderson, my Jo.
John Anderson, my Jo, John, ye were my first conceit.
And ye need na' think it strange, John, tho' I ea' ye trim
and neat ;
There's some folks say ye're old, John, but I ne'er think
you so,
For ye are a' the same to me, John Anderson, my Jo.
John Anderson, my Jo, John, when we were first acquent,
Vour locks were like the raven, John, your bonnie brow
was brent ;
But now ye're getting auld, John, your locks are like th*
snaw;
Yet blessing on that frosty pow, John Anderson, my Jo.
John Anderson, my Jo, John, frae year to year we'v»
And soon that rear maun come, John, will bring us to our
last ;
But let not that affright us, John; our hearts were ne'er
our foe ; .
Tho the days are gane that we have seen, John AnderJ
son, my Jo.
John Anderson, my Jo, John, we've clamb'd the hill the*
g'.ther,
And mony acar.tr day, John, weVe had wf ane anither;
Now we maun totter down, John, but hand in hand w*\fc
go,
And 6leep thcgither at the ftot, John Anderson, my Jo.
88
The Grave of "Uncle Trae«
Beside the worn and moss-grown rock,
The ivy vine doth cling,
And the blue-bird from the shahowy oak,
Folds up his trembling wing ;
And there until the vesper hour.
His song comes sweet and low-^
A requiem to the faithful heart
That slumbereth below.
Chorus. — Poor Uncle True,
Poor Uncle True,
And the lamps of heaven shine brightly down
On the grave of Uncle True.
His pilgrimage on earth is done —
His life of toil is o'er,
And summer's gale or winter's wail,
Shall meet his ear no more.
Death's shadow hides his sleeping form.
And vails him from our view,
But the spirit of the past still dwells
Round the grave of Uncle True.
The chaplet wreathed by Gerty's hand,
Of roses white and red,
Unheeded in their freshness lie
Above his lowly head ;
And the evening cricket's chirp is heard,
When falls the pearly dew,
And the lamps of heaven shine brightly d<nrn,
On tEe grave of Uncle True.
89
A Dollar or Two.
With cautious step, as we tread our way through
This intricate world as other folks do, —
Hay we still on our journey be able to view,
The benevolent face of a dollar' or two.
crroiius.
For an excellent thing is a dollar or two,
Xo friend is so true as a dollar or two ;
Through country and town, as we pass up or dowa,
No passport's so good as a dollar or two.
Would you read yourself o it of the bachelor crew
And the hand of a female divinity sue ?
You must always be ready the handsome to do,
Although it may cost you a dollar or two.
CHORUS.
Love's arrows are tipped with a dollar or two,
And affection is gain'd by a dollar or two;
The best aid you can meet in advancing your suit,
la the eloquent chink of a dollar or two.
Would you wish your existence with faith to imbue,
And enrol in the ranks of the sanctified few ?
To enjoy a good name and a weli-eushion'd pew,
You must freely come down with a dollar or two*
chorus.
The gospel is preach'd for a dollar or two,
And salvation is claim'd for a dollar or two ;
You may sin some at times, but the worst of all cri
la to find yourself short of a dollar or two,
40
JDilla, JESmrn*
I loved a little colored girl,
She lived in Tennessee,
She was not much to any one,
But all the world to me.
Her master used her very hard,
But mine, he used me well ;
And how I pitied this poor girl,
There's none but me can tell.
CHORUS.
I loved her long, I loved her strong,
She loved me in return ;
But she left one day, and went away,
My pretty Dilla Burn.
My heart grew sad, I could not work,
And master wondered why ;
I told him how she left one day,
And never said good-bye.
*T\vas then I learn'd from his dear lip
That Dilla had been sold ;
And how we severed had to be,
For a petty sum of gold. ♦
I loved her long, &c.
But after that, it was not long,
Poor Dilla's owner died ; *
When master bought her, good and kind
And gave her as mj bride.
And now we're happy in our cot,
And master's pleased to see
How two fo».d hearts, that fondly laved,
Though black, can happy be.
I loved her long, &c.
I
41
The Poor Little Flsliex-
rnsELn9^ <jrirl.
It was down in the country a poor cirl was weeping,
It was down in the country poor ^Niary Ann did mourn ;
She belonged to this nation — I have lost each dear relation,
Cried a poor little fisherman's girl, my friends are dead
and gone.
Oh, who has a soft heart to give me some shelter,
For the winds do blow, and dreadful is the storm ?
I have no father nor mother, but I've a tender brother,
Cried a poor little fisherman's girl, my friends are dead
and gone.
Oh, once I had enjoyment, my friends they reared me tender,
I passed with my brother each happy night and morn ;
But death has made a slaughter, poor father's in the water,
Cried a poor little fisherman's girl, my friends are dead
and gone
So fast falls the snow, and I can't find a shelter,
So fast falls the snow, I must hasten to the thorn,
For my covering the bushes, my bed is in green rushes,
Cried a poor little fisherman's girl, my friends are dead
and gone.
It happened as she passed by a very noble cottage,
A gentleman he heard her, his breast for her did burn,
Crying, Come in ray lovely creature, he view'd each droop-
ing feature,
You're a poor little fisherman's girl, whose friends are dead
and gone.
He took her to the fire, and when he'd warmed and fed her,
The tears began to fall ; he fell on her breast forlorn,
Crying, Live with me forever, we part again — no never,
You are my dearest sister — our lriends are dead and gone
So now she's got a home, she's living with her brother,
Now she's got a home, and the needy ne'er does scorn ,
For God was her protector, likewise a kind conductor,
Of the poor little fishermaa's girl, when kcr friends am
dead and gone.
43
"William of* the Fexnry*
Near Clyde's gay stream there lived a mai4,
Whose mind was chaste and pure ;
Content she lived in humble life,
Beloved by all who knew her ;
Protected 'neath her parents7 roof,
Her time pass'd on quite merry ;
She loved and was beloved again,
By William of the Ferry.
From morning's dawn till set of sun,
Would William labor hard ;
And then at evening's glad return,
He gain'd a sweet reward.
With heart so light, unto her cot,
He tripp'd so light and merry ;
All daily toils were soon forgot
By William of the Ferry.
With joy their parents gave consent,
And fixM their bridal day :
Ere it arrived, the press-gang came,
And forced poor Will away !
He found resistance was in vain —
They dragg'd him from his wherry
•* I ne'er shall see my love again !"
Cried William of the Ferry.
Loud blew the raging winds around,
When scarce a league from shore; ;
The boat upset — the ruffian crew
Soon sunk, to rise no more.
While William, fearless, braved the wa*e\
And safely reach'd his wherry:
Peace was proclaim' d — and Jane's now blest
With William of the Ferry.
43
We'll have a I^ittle Dance,
To-CViglit,, Boys.
Oh, listen to this good old trine,
And then Fll sing another,
Oh, Massa's gone this afterno«ji,
To call upon his brother.
So darkies wait a little while,
Till he gets out oh sight,
We'll drop the shovel and the boe,
And have a little dance to nignt.
cnORUS.
We'll have a little dance to-night, boyi,
And dance by the light of the mo^n.
I want the cambric handkerchief,
I want the beaver hat,
Oh, hand me down the high-heel'd boots,
Likewise the silk cravat.
The darkies all are grinning,
Their teeth look very white,
'Case they're going over the mountain,
To have a little dance to-night.
To have a little dance, <fcc.
I pet up at the break of day,
To take my morning walk ;
I meets my lovely Julian,
And this is the way we talk :
41 1 say, you are my only love,
You are my heart's delight,
Won't you go over the river,
To have a little dance to night?"
We'll have a little dance, kc.
44
Johnny was a, SlioexnaJkeir,
, My Johnny was a shoemaker,
And dearly he loved me ;
My Johnny he was a shoemaker,
But now he's gone to sea.
With nasty tar to soil his hands,
And sail across the briny sea.
My Johnny was a shoemaker !
His jacket was a deep sky blue,
And curly was his hair;
His jacket was a deep sky blue,
It was, I do declare.
To reef the top-sails he has gone,
To sail across the briny sea.
My Johnny was a shoemaker !
A Captain he will be bye and bye,
With the sword and spy -glass too ;
A Captain he will be bye and bye,
With a brave and valiant crew.
And when he gets a vessel of his own,
He'll come back and marry me.
My Johnny was a shoemaker !
And when I am a Captain's wife,
I'll sing the whole day long ;
Yes, when I am a Captain's wife,
And this shall be my song:
May peace and plenty bless our days*
And the little one on my knee.
My Johnny waa a shoemaker !
45
Camptown Races.
Camptown ladies, sing dis song, — Du da, du da,
CamptowR races track five miles long, — Du da, du da da.
Go down dar wid my hat cared in, — Du da, du da,
Come back home wid pocket full ob tin, — Du da, du da da*
CHonus.
Gwine to run all night,
Gwine to run all day,
I'll bet my money on de bob-tail boss,
Somebody bet on de bay.
Woolly moon came on de track, — Du da, du da,
Bob, he fling him ober his back — Du da, du da da.
Runnin* along like a shootin' star, — Du da, du da,
Runnin' a race wid de rail-road car, — Du da, du da da.
Gwine to run all night, kc.
De bob-tail horse he can't be beat, — Du da, du da,
Runnin* around in a two-mile heat, — Du da, du da da.
I win my money on de bob-tail nag, — Du da, du da,
^n' carry it home in de old tow-bag, — Du da, du da da.
Gwine to run all night, &c.
i)ar*s fourteen horses in dis race, — Du da, du da,
I'm snug in saddle, and got good brace, — Du da, du da da,
De sorrel horse he's got a cough, — Du da. du da,
Aa'hi3 rider's drunk in de oie hay-loft, — Du da, du da da.
Gwine to run all night, kc.
45
Wake! Dinah, "Wake!
"Wake ! Dinah, wake ! the "bright moon is beaming
O'er the meadow, the corn-field, and the hill ;
And the stars, though no brighter than thy bright eyes,
Are gleaming o'er the earth, all so calm and still.
The violet in the glade is sleeping,
The lily is bending o'er the rill,
The rose in tears of pearly dew-drops weeping,
Near the river that flows calmly by the mill.
CIIORL'S.
Wake ! Dinah, wake ! the bright moon is beaming
O'er the meadow, the corn-held, and the hill ;
And the stars, though no brighter than thy bright eyes,
Are gleaming o'er the earth all so calm and still.
Wake ! Dinah, wake ! the gentle breeze is blowing,
The bird's notes still hush'd in the grove •,
The ivy around the sturdy oak is growing,
Clinging fondly as though something still to love
The shining river views it as onward rolling by,
And as on golden sands the ripples break,
In sweet enchanting tones it seems to murmur,
Wake, now, my dearest Dinah, wake !
Chorus. — Wake ! Dinah, wake, &c.
Wake ! Dinah, wake ! and open thy lattice,
My heart, love, can brook no delay ,
How dearly I love to thy sweet voice to listen,
More sweet than the lark's morning lay.
Then come, dearest, come, for eaeh throb of my heart
Speaks in language which love can not mistake,
So true that from thee I can not depart,
Tk«n wake, now, my dearest Dinah, wake!
Chorus. — Wake ! Dinah, wake, &c.
4T
■ -^*% J. *0 *-***>.
Umbrella Courtship.
L belle pnd a beau would walk:-P£ #r*,
In love they both were pining ;
The wind iu gentle galea did bio r,
An April sun was shining.
Though Simon long had courtod iivss,
He Knew he'd acted wrong in
Not having dared to steal a MS,
AVhieh set her quite a longing. — Tol o- ol.
It so occurred as they did walk,
And viewed each dale so flow'ry,
As Simon by her side did stalk,
Declared the sky looked show'ry.
The rain came to her like a drug,
When loudly he did bellow,
"Look here, my love, we can be snu<r,
For I've got an umbrella" — Tol ol oL
Quick flew the shelter orer Miss ;
Now Simon was a droll one,
He thought this was the time to kiss,
So from her lips he stole one.
She blushed ; — the rain left off, and he
The umbrella closed for draining;
" Oh don't," says she, " I plainly sec,
It has'nt left off raining." — Tol ol ol.
Now Simon when he smoked the plan,
The umbrella righted,
lie grew quire bold, talked like a man,
And she seemed quite delighted
Their lips rang chimes full fitty times,
Like simple lovers training ;
Savs she u These are but lover's crimes;
1 hope it won't leave off raining." — Tol ol oL
Before they reached the door that night,
He all his love did tell her,
She said when you a courting come,
Don't forget your umbrella.
They married were, had children dear,
Eight round-faced little fellows ;
And strange to state the whole of the eight.
Wore marked with umbrellas, — Tol old
48
The Lily of the "West.
I just came down from Louisville, some pleasure for U
find,
A handsome girl from Michigan, so pleasing to my mind ;
Her rosy cheeks and rolling eyes like arrows pierced my
breast,
They call her handsome Mary, the Lily of the 'West.
I court' d her for many a day, her love I thought to gain,
Too 60on, too soon she slighted me, which caused mo
grief and pain ;
She robb'd me of my liberty — deprived me of my rest,
They call her handsome Mary, the Lily of the West.
One evening as I rambled Gown by yon shady grove,
I met a lord of high degree, conversing with my love ;
He sang, he sang so merrily, while I was sore oppress'd,
He Bang for handsome Mary, the Lily of the West.
I rushed upon my rival, a dagger in my hand,
I tore him from my true love, and boldly made him stand ;
Being mad to desperation, my dagger pierced his breast,
I was betray'd by Mary, the Lily of the Wxest.
Now my trial has come on, and sentenced soon I'll be,
They put me in the criminal box and there convicted me,
She so deceived the jury, so modestly did dress,
She far outshone bright Yenus — the Lily of the West.
Since then Tve gain'd my liberty, Til rove the country
through,
I'll travel the city over, to find my loved one true ;
Although she stole my liberty, and deprived me of my
rest,
I love my Mary, the Lily of the West
49
The Watcher.
The night was dark and fearful,
The blast swept wailing by,
A watcher, pale and tearful,
Look'd forth with anxious eye;
How wistfully she gazeth,
Xo gleam of morn is there ;
Her eyes to heaven she raisetn
In agony of prayer.
Within that dwelling lonely,
Where want and darkness reign,
Iler precious child, her only,
Lay moaning in his pain ;
And death alone can free him,
She felt that this must be,
But oh, for morn to see him
Smile once again on me.
A hundred lights are glancing
In yonder mansion fair,
And merry feet are dancing,
They heed not morning there ;
Oh, young and joyous creatures,
One lamp from out your store
Would give that young boy's features
To his mother's gaze once more.
The morning sun i3 shining,
She heedeth not its ray,
Beside her dead reclining,
The pale, dead mother lay.
JL smile her lips was wreathing,
A smile of hope and love,
Jls though she still were breathing,
" There's light for us above,"
50
The Old Arm-Chair.
I love it, I love it! and who shall dare
To chide me for loving that old arm-chair ?
I've treasured it long as a sainted prize,
I've bedew'd it with tears, I've embalm'd it with sighs J
'Tis bound by a thousand bauds to my heart ;
Not a tie will break, not a link will start ;
Would you know the spell ? — a mother sat there !
A sacred thing is that old arm-chair.
In childhood's hour I linger'd near
The hallow'd seat with listening ear ',
And gentle words that mother would give
To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
She told me that shame would never betide,
With truth for my creed, and God for my guide ;
She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,
As I knelt beside that old arm-chair.
I sat and watch"' d her many a day,
When her eye grew dim, and her locks were gray $
And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,
And turn'd from her Bible to bless her child.
Years roll'd on, but the last one sped —
My idol was shatter'd, my earth-star fled !
I learnt how much the heart can bear,
When I saw her die in the old arm-chair.
'T13 past, 'tis past! but I gaze on it now,
With quivering breath and throbbing brow ;
'Twas there she nursed, 'twas there she died,
And memory flows with lava tide.
Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
Whilst scalding drops start down my cheek ;
But I love it, I love it ! and can not tear
My soul from a mothers old arm-chair.
31
Grave of Bonaparte.
Copied br permission of Oliver Pitsox .fc Co. 227 Washington St.,
Bo.ston, owners of the copyright.
On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billorr,
Assail the stern rock and the loud tempests rave,
The hero lies still, while the dew drooping willow,
Like fond weeping mourners lean'd over the grave ;
The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle,
He heeds not, he hears not, he's free from all pain,
He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle,
No sound can awake him to glory again,
No sound can awake him to glory again.
Yet spirit immortal, the tomb can not bind thee,
For like thine own eagle that soar'd to the sud,
Thou springest from bondage, and leavest behind thee
A name, which before thee no mortal had won.
Though nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle,
No more on the steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plain,
Thousleep'>t thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle,
No sound can awake thee to glory again,
No sound can awake thee to glory again.
Oh, shade of the mighty, where now are the legions,
That ruslrd but to conquer when thou led'st them on?
Alas ! they have perish'd in far hilly regions,
And all save the fame of their triumph is gone.
The trumpet may sound, and the loud cannon rattle,
They heed not, they hear not, they're free from all pain;
They sleep their last sleep, they have fought their last battl^
No sound can awake them to glory again,
fc"o wund can awake them to glory again.
52
The Lass that Loves a
Sailox^
The noon on the ocean was dimmed by a ripple,
Affording a checkered light.
The gay jolly tars passed the word for a tipple,
And the toast, — for 'twas Saturday night.
Some sweetheart or wife
He loved as his life,
Each drank, and he wished he could hail her ;
But the standing toast,
That pleased the most,
Was the wind that blows,
The ship that goes,
And the lass that loves a sailor.
Some drank his country, and some her bravo shipe,
And some the Constitution ;
Borne, may the French, and all such rips,
Yield to American resolution.
That fate might bless,
Some Poll or Bess.
And that they soon might hail her.
Some drank the nary, and some cur land.
This glorious laasd of freedom :
Some that our tars may never want,
Heroes brave to lead them •
That she who's in distress may find
Such friends th^t ne'er will fail her.
But the steading *oast, Sto
In tine Days when I was
Hard Up.
In the days when I was hard up, not many years ago,
I suffered that which only can the sons of misery know ;
Relations, friends, companions, they all turned up their nose,
And they rated me a vagabond for want of better clothes.
In the days when I was hard up, for want of food and fire,
I used to tie my shoes up with little bits of wire ,
When hungry, cold, cast on a rock, and could not get a meal,
How oft I've beat the devil down for tempting me to steal.
In the days when I was hard up, for furniture and drugs.
Many a summer's night I've held communion with the bugs ;
I never faced them with a pike, or smashed them on the wall,
1 said the world was wide enough, there's room enough for all.
In the days when I was hard up, I used to lock my door,
For fear the landlady should say you can't lodge here no
more.
From my own back drawing-room, about ten feet by six,
In the work-house wall just opposite, I've counted all the
bricks.
In the days when I was hard up, I bowed my spirits down,
And often have I sought a friend to borrow half-a-crown ;
How many are there in this world whose evils I can scan,
The shabby suit of toggery, but can not see the man-
In the days when I was hard up, I found a blissful hope,
It's all a poor man's heritage to keep him from the rope;
Now I've found a good old maxim, and this shall be my
plan.
Altho' I wear a ragged coat, I'll wear it like a man.
54
The Musical Wife.
flow I wish that my wife would not practice all day,
My head it is ready to split,
It snows, so I can not get out of her way,
But at home all the morning must sit.
JIow little I thought, when I first heard her sing.
And hung o'er her harp with delight,
The sorrows a musical partner might bring,
Who would practice from morning till night.
Oh ! beware ye young men of a musical wife,
For Eliza's fine voice is the plague of my life I
"Eliza, my love, Fve a letter to write
Pray cease for a moment, my dear,"
" Good heavens!" she cries, " you forget that to-night
Ned Seguin and Frazer '11 be here :
Anguera has promis'd to bring his Guitar,
Kametti will play on the Flute,
So I'm trying a second to ' Young Lochinvar,'
Which Miss Stone will perform on her Lute!"
Oh ! beware, young men, of a musical wife,
For Eliza's fine voice is the plague of my life !
Last week, in the Senate, on Tuesday's debate,
We never divided till three,
When, tir'd and exhausted, I hurried home late,
How I long'd for a cup of green tea :
But, alas, neither tea nor repose could I get,
For Keyser, and Lange, were there,
And my wife was performing a fav'rite quartette,
So 7, went to the Club in despair,
Oh ! beware, young men, of a musical wife,
Fer Eiiza's fine voice is the plague of my life I
An office was vacant — the postmaster gave,
The place to my brother through me,
I was out — so the messenger carried his note
To Eliza — whilst singing a glee.
But, surrounded, alas ! by her musical choir
My wife could not think of my brother ;
So the luckless appointment was toss'd in the fir^
And the office — was given to another,
Oh ! beware, young men, of a musical wife,
For Eliza's fine voice is the plague of my life I
Yet they tell me, alas ! that I ought, to be blest,
In a wife with so perfect an ear —
Deaf husbands ! — Oh, knew ye the blessinga of rest,
Ye would ne'er be so anxious to hear!
I, alas ! have discover' d my folly too late-
Take warning by me whilst you can —
When you hear a fine voice — Oh! remember my fate!
I'm a wretched — unfortunate man!
Oh ! beware, young men, of a musical wife,
For Eliza's fine voie is the plague of my life !
Saixibo9 I have Missed. You.
Oh, Sambo, is it you, dear, come down to see me now?
I heard you in the barn-yard hollering at the cow ;
The pigs were squealing ioudly, and the rusters they did crow,
For they knew that welcome footstep of Dinah's lovely beau ;
But the* rusters stopp'd their crowing, and the pigs couldn't
s-jueal,
When at the feet of Dina this bewitching Sam did kneel.
Your voice was like the night owl, sitting on the the tree,
The echoes of that lovely voice were like the bumble bee,
Making music on my ear, like sticks on a drum ;
Oh, Sambo, I have miss'd you, I thought you'd never come;
But my heart rejoiced once't more, when 1 heard you again,
Oh, Sambo, I loved you, but I fear it is in vain.
Oh, Dina, I have wrong'd you, I know I have proved unkind
But now we've come together, love, we'll just make up our
mind ;
I have thought of you in the field, when hoeing up the corng
And often I have wish'd, love, that I was never born ;
But the day is pass'd now, love, I know that it is gone,
TVmorrsw we will go to church, and there be«wae cm*
56
The Tail iv Me Coat.
I larned me reading an1 writing,
At Ballyragget where I wint to school,
'Twas there I first took to fighting,
With the schoolmaster Misther O'Toole ;
He and I there had many a scrimmage,
The divil a copy I wrote,
But not a gossoon in the village,
Dare thread on the tail iv me coat
I an illigani hand was at courting,
For lessons I took in the art,
Till Cupid, that blaggard, while sporting,
A big arrow sint smack through me heart;
Miss O'Connor, I lived straight fornnist her,
And tindher lines to her I wrote,
Who dare say a black word against her,
Why I'd thread on the tail iv his coat.
A bog-trotter wan, Mickey Mulvany,
He tried for to coax her away ;
He had money an' I hadn't any,
So a challenge I sint him wan day ;
"Next morning we met at Killhealy,
The Shannon we cross1 d in a boat,
There I lather'd him with me shillely,.
For he trod on the tail iv me coat.
Me fame spread through the nation,
Folks flock for to gaze upon me,
All cry out without hesitation,
41 Och, yer a fightin' man, Mickey MageeP
I fought with the Finegan faction,
We bate all the Murphies afloat,
Jf inclined for a row or a ruction,
Why, I'd tread on the tail of their coat.
57
The Ivy Green.
Oh! a dainty plant is the ivy green,
That crecpeth o'er the ruins old;
Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
In his cell so lonely and cold.
The wall must be crumbled, the 6tone decayed
To please his dainty whim ;
And the mouldering dust that years have made^
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch old head hath he ;
Ho'.v closely he twincth — how tightly he clings
To his triend, the huge oak tree !
And slily he traileth along the ground,
And his leaves he gently waves,
As he joyously hugs, and crawleth round
The rich mould of dead men's graves.
Creeping where grim death hath been,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Whole ages have fled, and works decay'd,
And nations hav • . been;
But the stout old \\~y shall never fade
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant in its lonely days
Shall fatten on the past ;
For the stateliest building man can raise.
Is the ivy's food at I .
Creeping where grim death hath been,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
58
Kind. Isolations.
We nil have our share of the ups and the downs,
Whatever our rank or station ;
And he's sure to get the most scoffs and frowns,
Who depends on his kind relations ;
For it's all very well once or twice to drop in,
To ask for a trifling favor,
But on the third time they are sure to begin,
To construe it to bad behaviour.
There's your relations! kind relations!
There's your kind relations!
I speak from experience, and you'll find,
Though often they invite you,
When poverty comes close behind,
How quick then they'll slight you.
For it's — " Clear the way — there's a knock at the door-
Say we're gone out for a ride, John —
I know who it is — it's that hungry bore ;
Don't open the door too wide, John."
My goods were one day seized for rent —
The broker took his station ;
Pale and trembling, off I went
To try each kind relation.
Some hemm'd, some ha'd, and some looked cool,
With faces of grief and sorrow ;
My twin-brother said he had made it a rule
Never to lend or borrow.
I thought in my sister to find a friend,
But soon she undeceived me,
By saying — u These are not times too lend,
I would, if I could, relieve thee."
" A trifle, dear sister, would keep me afloat,
I shall sink if you do not arrange it."
She said she'd not less than a twenty-pound not^
And she couldn't find time to change it.
59
I lost my goods, but found that day —
(Though 'gainst me they had sinned all) —
Death summoned a rich old friend away,
Who left me a tidy windfall.
And then how they altered from what they'd just said.
Their cant, it was really provoking,
To hear them exclaim, as each hung down his head,
"Lord! Tom, we were only a joking."
Xow, who in the world so blest as me,
With so many kind relations ?
I am asked to dinner, to supper, to tea,
I've a hundred invitations !
But their crawling presents I daily return,
Their kindness to me they may scant it,
For I hate those cold hearts that would poverty scorn,
And give to those who don't want it.
Oclx ! Paddy, is it Yerself?
Och, Pat, is it yerself indade, safe agin to home?
Sure, Bridget told a lie ! faith, she said you wouldn't come,
I heerd verself a' coming, and it made my dander rise,
Dade I knowed yer drunken footstep and yer rummy voice.
:Twas sorrow to "my ears in the avenin's awful gloom —
Och, Paddy, sure, tell me now, where did you get yer rum?
We's afraid yer would come nightly, but this night of all,
We let the fire go out, 'cause we's going to the ball,
The chil&ers wud set up till nine o'clock and past,
Till they wud say they knowed that their pana was lost,
An' they hoped yer wud be sober when yer did get home,
Och, Patrick, tell me truly, where did you get yer rum?
The days were glad without you, the nights were spent in revel,
Aud now you nave come home, Put, you drunken divil ;
Last night I sung and danced by the moon's gentle ray, $
Till I thought I heerd yer voice, when I stopped right away ;
But I soon resumed my sport when I found you had not come*
Och, Pat» For drunken rovdy, why did yer come home?
60
The Gambler's "Wife.
Dark is the night ! how dark ! no light — no fire !
Cold, on the hearth, the last faint sparks expire ;
Shivering, she watches by the cradle side,
For him who pledged his love — last year a bride !
Hark ! 'tis his footstep ! — No : 'tis past — 'tis gone !
Tic ! tic ! — how wearily the time rolls on.
Why should he leave me thus? he once was kind,
And I believed 'twould last, — oh, how mad, how blind I
Rest thee, my babe, rest on, — 'tis hunger's cry !
Sleep : for there is no food : the fount is dry !
Famine and cold their wearing work have done ;
My heart must break — and thou, my child! — Hush! th«
clock strikes one !
Hush ! 'tis the dice-box — yes ! he's there — he's there !
For this he leaves me to despair ;
Leaves love — leaves truth — his wife — his child — for what?
The gambler's fancied bliss — the gambler's horrid lot !
Yet I'll not curse him, — no : 'tis all in vain ;
'Tis long to wait, but sure he'll come again ;
And I could starve and bless him, but my child, for you, —
Oh, fiend ! oh, fiend ! — Hush ! the clock strikes two !
Hark, how the sign-board creaks, — the blast howls by ;
Moan, moan, ye winds, through the cloudy sky.
Ha ! 'tis his knock ! he comes, he comes once more ;
No, 'tis but the lattice-flaps — my hope, my hope ia o'er !
Can he desert us thus ? he knows I stay
Night after night, in loneliness to pray,
For his return, and yet he sees no tear ;
No, no, it can not be, oh ! he will be here ;
Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart ;
Thou art cold — thou art freezing ! — but we will not part f
Husband ! I die ! — Father ! it is no^ he,
Oh, God, protect my child ! — Hush ! the clock strikes three !
They're gone, — the glimmering spark hath fled !
The"wife and child are number'd with the dead;
0$ the cold earth, outstretch'd in solemn rest,
The babe lies frozen on its mother's breast ;
The gambler comes at last, but all is o'er, —
Dread silence reigns around, — the clock strikes four !
61
Tlie Ocean I3n.rlaU
*l Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea,"
The words came low and mournfully,
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay.
On his cabin couch at the close of day;
lie had wasted and pined till o'er his brow
Death's shade had slowly pass'd, and now
Where the Ian- and his fond loved home were nigh,
They had gathered around him to see him die.
" Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea,
Where the billowing shroud will swell o'er me ;
W'here no light will break through the dark cold ware,
And no sunbeam rest upon my grave ;
It matters not, I have often been told
Where the body shall lie when the heart is cold,
Yet grant, oh, grant this boon to me.
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea.
" For in fancy I've listened to the well-known words,
The free wild winds and the songs of the birds;
I have thought of home, of cot, and of bower,
And of icenef that I loved in childhood's hour,
I had even hoped to be laid, when I died,
In the churchyard there on the green hill-side,
By the homes of my father my grave should be, —
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea.
" Let my death slumbers be where a mother's prayer,
And a sister's tear shall be mingled there ;
It will be sweet ere the heart's gentle throb is o'er,
T know when its fountain shall gusli no more,
That those it so fondly hath vearn'd for will come
To plant the first wild flowei o: spring on my tomb ;
Let nu lie where those loved ones will weep over me,—*
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea.
And there is another whose tears would b« shed
For him who lay far in an ocean bed;
In hours that it pains me to think of now,
Sbe hath twined those locks and hath kiss'd this br*w.
62
In thr hair she hath wreathed shall the sea serpent hiss,
And the brow she hath press'd shall the cold wave kisal
For the sake of that bright one, that waiteth for me,
Oh, bury me not in the deep, deep sea.
• She hath been in mj dreams" — His voice failed there,
They gave no heed to his dying prayer ;
They have lower' d him low o'er the vessel side,
Above him has closed the dark cold tide
Where to dip the light wings the sea-bird rests,
And the blue waves dance o'er the ocean crest,
Where the billowc bound and the winds sport free,
They have buried him there in the deep, deep sea.
The Minute Grixn at Sea.
Let him who sighs in sadnes3 hear,
Rejoice to know a friend is near!
What heavenly sounds are those I hear?
What being comes the gloom to cheer?
When in the storm on Columbia's coast,
The night-watch guards his weary post,
From thoughts of danger free!
To mark some vessel's dusky form,
And hears amid the howling storm,
The minute frun at sea !
Swift on the shore a hardy few,
The life-boat man with a gallant crew,
And dare die dangerous wave !
Through the wild surf they cleave their way,
Lost in the foam nor know dismay,
For they go the crew to save.
But oh i 'What rapture fills each breast,
Of the hapless crew of the ship distress'd,
When landed safe what joys to tell,
Of all the dangers that befell •
Then Ls heard do more
By the watch on the shore,
The minute gun at sea.
63
Tlie Irisla Emigrant's
Lament,
I'm pitting on the style, Mary,
Where we sat side by side,
On a bright May morning long ago,
When first you were my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and grton,
And the lark sang loud and high,
And the red was on thy lip, Mary,
And the love-light in thine eye.
The place is little changed Mary
The day is bright as then ;
The lark's loud song is in my ear,
And the corn is green again!
But I miss the soft clasp of your Land,
And your warm breath on my cheek,
And I still keep listening for the words
You never more may speak.
Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near,
The church where we were wed, Mary ;
I see the spire from here
But the graveyard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest;
Tor I've laid you, darling, down to fiWef^
With your baby on your breast.
Tm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friend* ;
Bat 0, they love them better far,
The few our Father sends!
And you were all I had, Mary,
My blessing and my pride ;
There's nothing left to care for now,
Bioee my poor Mary died.
64
Tears was the brave, good heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength had gOM?
There was comfort ever on your lip>
And the kind look on your brow :
I bless you for that same, Mary,
Though you can't hear me now.
I thank you for that smile, Mary,
When your heart was fit to break ;
When the hunger pain was gnawing there,
And you hid it, for my sake;
I bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart -was sad and sore ;
0, I'm thankful yon are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more.
Vm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary, kind and true,
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to ;
They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair.
And often in those grand old woods,
I'll sit and shut my eyes,
And my heart will travel back again
To the place where Mary lies ?
And I'll think I see the little stile,
Where we sat side by side,
And the springing corn, and the bright May mor^
When first you were say bride.
Song" Book
No. 6.
A COLLECTION OF NKW AND POPULAR
COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
NEW YORK: lia WILLIAM ST'
LONDON': 41 PATERNOSTER ROW
[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year I860,
By IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO.,
Im the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,
ibr the Southern District of New York.
S. B, No. e
CONTENTS No. 6.
PAGE.
Ajinie Lisle, 27
Beautiful world, 16
Be kiud to the loved ones, 14
Bobbin' around, 7
Bonnie Dundee, 55
Courting in Connecticut, ----- 53
Dearest Mae, 19
Dear mother, I'll come home again, 59
EllaRee, 24
Fairy Dell, 32
Far, far upon the sea, 37
Gentle Hallie, 35
Gentle Nettie Moore, 13
Happy are we to-night, 11
Hattie Lee, 32
He doeth all things well, 39
I can not call her mother, 33
I'll paddle my own canoe, 57
I'm standing by thy grave, mother, - - - 47
Is it anybody's business ? 9
Jane O'Malley, 41
Jenny Lane, 62
Joanna Snow,- -------63
Johnnv Sands, -------10
Lilly Dale, 5
Little more cider, 8
Lulu is our darling pride, 25
Marion Lee, 42
Meet me by the running lirook, ... G4
Minnie Clyde, 6
Not for gold, --------41
Not married yet, 15
Oh, carry me home to die, 86
Oh, silber shining moon, 23
CONTENTS NO. 6.
FAQS
Oh, spare the old homestead, - ' • - - - 44
Old homestead, 49
Ossian's serenade, -------15
Over the river, ------- 12
Hiding on a rail, 48
Sailor boy's last dream, 58
" Say yes, pussy," 60
Spirit voice of Belle Brandon, 50
Squire Jones's daughter, - 18
The bloom is on the rye, ----- 54
The blue Juniata, 46
The carrier dove, ------ 24
The child's wish, 17
The cottage of my mother, 54
The female auctioneer, 36
The grave of Washington, 61
The Irish jaunting car, 29
The lords of creation shall woman obey, 28
The maniac, 26
The May queen, 22
The merry sleigh-ride, 56
The miller's maid, 38
The modern belle, 80
The mountaineer's farewell, 56
The old mountain tree, 42
The snow stomi, 52
The song my mother used to sing, - - - - 40
The strawberry girl, 43
The young recruit, 45
Three grains of corn, 34
What is home without a sister? - - - - 51
Where are the friends, 21
Why chime the bells so merrily ? - - - - 50
Why don't the men propose ? - - - - 20
Will nobody marry me ? 31
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK,
ISTo. 6.
Lilly Dale.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditsox & Co. 227 Wa.ihington.aL,
Boston, owners of the copyright.
Tvras a calm, still night, and the moon's pala light
Shone soft o'er hill and vale,
When friends mute with grief stood around the death-bed
Of my poor, lost Lilly Dale.
cnonus.
0 Lilly, sweet Lilly, dear Lilly Dale,
N"o\v the wild rose blossoms o'er her little gr^en grave
'Xeath the trees in the flowery vale.
(ler cheeks, that once glow d with the rose tint of health,
Br the hand of disease had turn d pale,
/Lnd the death-damp was on the pun* white brow
Of my poor, lost Lilly Dale.
Chorus.— 0 Lilly, &c,
* I go," she said, " to the land of rest,
And ere my strength shall fail,
1 must tell you where, near my own loved home,
You must lay poor Lilly Dale.
Chorus.— 0 Lilly, <ic.
•"Neath the chestnut-tree, where the wild flowers grow,
And the stream ripples forth through the vale,
Where the birds shall warble their songs in spring,
There lay poor Lilly Dale."
Chorus.— 0 Lilly, <fc<x
Minnie Clyde.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., 227 Washingtcra-sfc-
Boston, owners ot the copyright.
Oh, long have I sung of sweet Kitty Clyde,
Who lived at the foot of the hill ;
And though that sweet pretty bird has flown,
Another is living there still.
She's blithe and gay as the robin that sings
On the trees by the old mill side ;
And if ever I loved a girl in my life,
'Tis the charming, sweet Minnie Clyde.
Chorus. — 0 Minnie Clyde, she is my pride,
And sure I am no jester ;
For if ever I loved a girl in my life
'Tis Minnie, Kitty Clyde's sister.
I think her eyes are brighter than Kitty's ;
The dimple in her chin is deeper ;
I would be imprison'd the rest of my life,
With Minnie Clyde for my keeper.
In the festive throng she sings a sweet song;
With the lowly alike she is meek ;
Her eyes are the windows of her soul,
Through which Minnie's heart would speak*
Chorus. — 0 Minnie Clyde, &c.
Oh, blest are the hearts that live in the cot,
That stands at the foot of the hill ;
Oh, sweet are the songs that echo in the glen,
By the murmur of the moss-cover'd mill.
The birds all chant their notes to Minnie ;
The angels above have earess'd her ;
But you have the angels, and I have the bird%
AndFll have Kitty Clyde's sister.
Chorus.— 0 Minnie CIvde, &c.
Bobbin9 Around,
Copiixl by permission of Oliver Ditbo.v & Co., 227 Washlnglon-tt.,
Bo3tou, owners of the copyright.
In August last, on one fine day,
A bobbing around, around, around,
When Josh and I went to make hay,
We went a bobbing around.
Says Josh to me, " Let's take a walk,
A bobbing around, around, around,
Then we can have a private talk,
As we go bobbing around."
We walk'd along to the mountain ridge,
A bobbing around, around, around,
Till we got near Squire SHpshod's bridge*
As we went bobbing around.
Then Josh and I went on a spree,
A bobbing around, around, around,
And I kissM Josh, and Josh kiss'd me.
As we went bobbing around.
Then Josh's pluck no longer tarried,
A bobbing around, around, around,
Say3 he, " Dear Patience, let's get married,
Then we'll go bobbing around."
Now I knew he loved another gal,
A bobbing around, around, around,
Thev call'd her crook'd-shin, curly-tooth'd Sal,
When he went bobbing around.
So after we got into church,
A bobbing around, around, around,
I cut and left Josh in the lurch,
Then he went bobbing around.
Now all you chaps wofs got a gal,
A bobbing around, around, around,
Do think of crook'd-shin, curly-tooth'd Sal,
When you go bobbing around.
Little IVTox-e CicLer*.
Copied V»y permission of Oliver Ditsox & Co., 227 "Washington-st^
Boston, owners of the copyright.
I love the white girl and the black,
And I love all the rest;
I love the girls for loving me,
But I love myself the best.
Oh dear, I am so thirsty,
I've just b3eu clown to supper,
I drank three pails of applejack,
And a tub of apple butter.
Chorus. — Oh, little more cider too,
A little more cider too,
A little more cider for Miss Dinah,
A little more cider too.
When first I saw Miss Snow-flake,
'Twas on Broadway I spied her,
I'd give my hat and boots, I would,
If I could been beside her;
She look'd at me, 1 looked at her,
And then I cross'd the street,
And then she smiling said to me,
" A little more cider sweet."
^horus. — Oh, little more cider, &c
Oh, I wish I was an apple,
And Snow-flake was another,
Oh, what a pretty pair we'd make,
Upon a tree together ;
How bad de darkies all would feel,
When on the tree they spied her,
To think how happy we would be,
When we're made into cider.
Chorus.— Oh, little more cider, Ac
But now old age comes creeping on,
We grow down and don't get bigger,
And cider sweet am sour then,
And I am just de nigger ;
But let the cause be what it will,
Short, small, or wider,
She arn de apple of my soul,
And I'm bound to be beside her,
Cuouus.— Oh, little more cider, Ac.
**.
Is it Anybody's
Business ?
Is it anybody's business, if a gentleman should choose
To wait upon a lady, if the lady don't refuse ?
Or, to speak a little plainer, that the meaning all may know%
Is it anybody's business, if a lady has a beau?
Is it anybody's business when that gentleman does call ?
Or nhen he leaves the lady? er if lie leaves at all?
Or is it necessary that the curtain should be drawn.
To save from further trouble the outside lookers-on ?
Is it anybody's business but the lady's, if her beau
Rides out with other ladies, and doesn't let her know?
Is it anybody's business but the gentleman's, if she
Should accept another escort, where he doesn't chance to be ?
If a person's on the sidewalk, v. hether great or whether
small
Is it any body's business where that person means to call ?
Or if you sec a person, as he's calling anywhere,
Is it any of your business what his business may be there ?
The substance of our query, simply stated, would be this :
Is it any body's business what another's business is ?
If it is, or if it isn't, we would really like to knew,
For we're certain, if it isn't, there are some who make it s:
If 'tis, we 11 join the rabble, and act the noble part
Of tattlers and defainers who throng the public mart;
But if not, we'll act the teacher, until everybody learns
It were better in the future to mind his own concerns.
10
Johnny Sands.
A man whose name was Johnny Sand3,
Had married Betty Hague,
And though she brought him gold and lands,
She proved a terrible plague ;
For oh, she was a scolding wife,
Full of caprice and whim ;
He said that he was tired of life,
And she was tired of him,
Aud she was tired of him.
Says he, " Then I will drown myself;
The river runs below ;"
Says she, M Pray do, you silly elf;
I wish'd it long ago f
Says he, " Upon the brink Til stand ;
Do you run down the hill,
And push me in with all your might ;*
Says she, " My love, I will,"
Says she, " My love, I will."
"For fear that I should courage lack,
And try to save my life,
Pray tie my hands behind my back :"
u I will," replied his wife :
She tied them fast, as you may think,
And when securely done,
" Now stand," says she," upon the brink,
And I'll prepare to run,
And I'll prepare to run."
All down the hill his loving bride
Now ran, with ail her force,
To push him in ; he stepp'd aside,
And she fell in, of course ;
Now splashing, dashing, like a fish,
" Oh, save me, Johnny Sands !"
44 1 can't, my dear, though much I wisa,
For you have tied my hands,
For you have tied my hands."
11
Happy are we To-Night.
Happy are we to-night, boys,
Happy, happy are we ;
The hearts that we delight, boys,
With us may happy be.
Friends should laugh with those who laugh,
And sigh for those in pain ;
The most of us have met before,
And now we meet again.
chorus.
Happy are we to-night, boys,
Happy, happy are we ;
The hearts that we delight, boys,
With us may happy be.
Many will be the mile, boys,
Many, many the mile,
That we shall rove and smile, boys,
With friends we ne'er beguile.
The voices we have often heard,
And faces we have met,
Like tones of sweetest melody,
We never can forget.
Cnonus. — Happy are we, &c
Weary we may return, boys,
Weary, weary at last ;
But memory will learn, boys,
To love the happy past.
Age may bring us gloomy hours,
And time may make us sad;
Bat we to-night are free from care,
And all our hearts are glad.
Chorus. — Happy are we, &c
Over the River.
On the banks beyond the stream,
Where the fields are always green.
There's no night, but endless day;—
There is where the angels stay.
There's no sorrow, pain, nor fear ;
There's no parting, farewell tear;
There's no cloud, no darkness there ;
All is bright, and clear, and fair.
Flowers of fadeless beauty there,
Trees of life with foliage rare,
Fruits the most inviting grow, —
There is where I want to go.
Hark! I hear the angels sing;
Heavenly harpers, on the wing,
Throng the air, and bid mo rise
To the music in the skies.
Soon from earth I'll soar away
To the realms of endless day ;
Soon I'll join the ransomed throng,
And sing with them redemption's song.
Pearly gates stand open wide,
Just beyond death's chilling tide ;
There my mansion bright I see ;
There the angels wait for me.
Earthly homes, adieu, adieu !
Earthly friends, farewell to you I
Softly breathe your last good-by !
Jesus calls me, let me die :
Hallelujah ! Christ has come !
Hallelujah ! I'm near home :
Friends and loved ones, weep no more;
Meet me on the other s^.cre.
13
Grentle HVettie Moore.
Copied by permission of Oliver Dirsox & Co , 227 Washington-st.,
Boston, owners of the Copyright.
In a little white cottage,
Where the trees are ever green,
And the climbing roses blossom at the door,
I've often sat and listen'd
To the music cf the birds,
And the gentle voice of charming Nettie Moore.
Chorus. — Oh, I miss you, Nettie Moore,
And my happiness is o'er,
While a spirit sad around my heart has come;
And the busy days are loug,
And the nights are lonely now,
For you're gone from our little cottage home.
Below us in the valley,
On the river's dancing tide,
Of a summer eve I'd launch my open boat ;
And when the moon was rising,
And the stars began to shine,
Down the river we so merrily would float.
Chorus. — Oh, I miss you, &c.
And often iu the autumn,
Ere the dew had left the lawn,
We would wander o'er the fields far away ;
But those moments have departed,
Gentle Nettie, too, is gone,
And no longer sweetly with her can I stray.
Chorus. — Oh, 1 miss you, &c.
Since the time that you departed,
I have long'd from earth to rise,
And join the happy angels gone before;
I can not now be merry,
For my heart is full of woe,
Ever pining for my gentle Nettie Moore.
Chorus. — Oh, I miss you, <tc.
You are gone, darling Nettie ;
I have mourn'd you many a day;
But I'll wipe all the tears from my eyes ;
For as soon as life is past,
I shall meet yon once again.
In heaven, darling, up above the skies.
Chorusi.— Oh, I miss you, Ac.
14
Be EQncL to the Loved Ones
Be kind to thy father, for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he ?
lie caught the first accents that feli from thy tongue,
And join'd in thy innocent glee.
Be kind to thy father, for now he is old —
His locks intermingled with gray ;
His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold ;
Thy father is passing away.
Be kind to thy mother; for lo! on her brow
May traces of sorrow be seen;
Oh, well mays* thou cherish and comfort her now,
For loving and kind hath she been,
Remember thy mother; for thee will she pray,
As long as God giveth her breath ;
With accents of kindness then cheer her lone way,
E'en to the dark valley of death.
Be kind to thy brother; his heart will have dearth,
If the smile of thy joy be withdrawn;
The flowers of feeling will fade at their birth,
If the dew of affection be gone.
Be kind to thy brother wherever you are,
The love of a brother shall be
An ornament purer and richer by far
Than pearls from the depth of the sea.
Be kind to thy sister; not many may know
The depth of true sisterly love;
Thewealth of the ocean lies fathoms below
The surface that sparkles above.
J3e kind to thy father, once fearless and bold;
Be kind to thy mother so near
Be kind to thy brother, nor show thy heart cold ;
Be kind to thy sister so dear.
15
Not Married Yet.
rm single yet — I'm single yet —
And years have flown since I came out !
In vain" I sigh ; in vain I fret ;
Ye gods ! what are the men about ?
I vow^I'm twenty ! Oh, ye powers 1
A spinster's lot is hard to bear ;
On earth alone to spend her hours !
And afterward lead apes down there !
No offer yet ! no offer yet ! —
I'm puzzled quite :o make it out ;
For every beau my cap I set ;
What, what, what are the men about T
They don't propose ; they won't propose ;
For fear, perhaps, I'd not say " Yes."
Just let them try — for heaven knows
I'm tired of single blessedness.
Not married yet ! not married yet !
The deuce is in the men, I fear ;
I'm like a something to be let,
And to be let alone, that's clear ;
They say, M She's pretty — but no chink,"
And love, without it, runs in debt ;
It agitates my nerves to think
That I have had no offer yet,
Ossian's Serenade.
Oh, come with me, in my little canoe,
Where the sea is calm, and the sky is blue.
Oh, come with me, for I long to go,
To those isles where the mango apples gro"W
Oh, come with me, and be my love ;
For thee the jungle depth I'll rove.
I'll gather the honeycomb, bright as gold ;
And chase the elk to its secret hold.
I'll chase the antelope over the plain ;
The tiger's cub I'll bind with a chain ;
And the wild gazelle, with its silvery feet,
I'll give thee for a playmate sweet.
16
I'll climb the palm for the bia's nest ;
Red peas I'll gather to deck thy breast ;
I'll pierce the cocoa's cup for its wine ;
And haste to thee, if thou'lt be mine.
Then come with me, in my light canoe,
While the sea is calm, and the sky is blue ;
For should we linger another day,
Storms may arise,"and love decay, etc.
BeairtifiTl World.
We're going home ; we've had visions bright
Of that holy land, that world of light,
Where the long dark night of time is past,
And the morn of eternity dawns at last ;
Where the weary saint no more shall roam,
But dwell in a happy, peaceful home ;
Where the brow with sparkling gems is crown' d,
And the waves of bliss are flowing around.
Oh, that beautiful world !
Oh, that beautiful world !
We're going home ; we soon shall be
Where the sky is clear, and all are free ;
Where the victor's song floats o'er the plain,
And the seraph's anthems blend with its strain ;
Where the sun rolls down its brilliant flood,
And beams on a world that is fair and good ;
Where stars, once 'limm'd at nature's doom,
Will ever shine o'er the new earth's bloom.
Oh, that beautiful world, etc.
'Mid the ransom'd throng, 'mid the sea of bliss,
'Mic1 the holy city's gorgeousness,
'Mid the verdant "plains, 'mid angels' cheer,
'Mid the saints that round the throne appear,
Where the conqueror's song, as it sounds afar,
Is wafted on th' ambrosial air,
Through endless years, we then shall prove
The depth of a Savior's matchless love.
Oh, that beautiful, etc.
17
The Child's Wish.
Oh, I long to lie, dear mother,
On the cool and fragrant grass,
With the calm bine sky above my head
And the shadowy clouds that pass;
And I want the bright, bright sunshine
All round about my bed ;
Til colse my eyes, and God will think
Your little boy is dead.
Then Christ will send an angel
To take me up to him ;
He will bear me slow and steadily,
Far through the ether dim ;
He will gently, gently lay me
Close by the Saviour's side ;
And when I'm sure that I'm in heacen,
My eyes will open wide.
And I'll look among the angels
Who stand around the throne,
Till I find my sister Mary,
For I know she must be one ;
And when I find her, mother,
We will go away alone;
I'll tell her how we've mourn'dfor her
All the while that she's been gone.
Oh, I shall be delighted
To hear her speak again ;
Though I know she'll not return to ua^- •
To ask her would be vain ;
So I'll put my arms around her,
And look into her eyes,
And remember all I say to her,
And all her sweet replies.
And then I'll ask .he angel
To take me back to you;
He will bear me slow and steadilj
Down through the ether blue :
And you'll only think, dear mother,
That I've been out to play,
And have gone to sleep beneath the tree.
This sultry summer day.
no. vi. 2
18
(Squire Jones's Daughter.
Sweet is the gush of waterfalls,
The murmur of the breeze,
The ripple of the rivulet,
The sighing of the trees;
And sweet the sound of lute and voice,
When borne across the water;
But sweeter still the charming voice
Of Squire Jones's daughter.
Oh, Squire Jones's daughter !
The prettiest girl in the State of Maine
Is Squire Jones's daughter.
Bright is the sun, whose golden ray-
Can reach from heaven to earth ;
And. bright the tin-pan newly-scour'd,
Placed on the blazing hearth ;
And bright the sword while yet nnstain'd
With bloc*d in bloody slaughter;
But brighter still the beaming eye
Of Squire Jones's daughter.
Oh, Squire Jones's daughter, &c.
Red is the rosy posy's hue,
That grows down in the hollers;
And red is Uncle Nathan's barn,
That cost a hundred dollars;
And red is sister Sally's shawl,
That Cousin Levi bought her;
But redder still the blooming cheek
Of Squire Jones's daughter.
Oh, Squire Jones's daughter, &c
Hot is the lava tide that pours
Adown Vesuvius' mountain ;
And hot the stream that bubbles out
From Iceland's gushing fountain^
And hot the boy's ears box'd for doin*
That which he hadn't oughter;
But hotter still the love I feel
Foi Squire Jones's daughter.
Ob, Scmire Jones's daughter, &c
19
Dearest Mae.
Now, niggers, listen to me ;
A story I'll relate ;
It happen'd in de valley,
In de old Carlina state ;
Way down in de meadow,
"fwas dere I mow'd de hay;
I always work de harder
When I tink ob lubly Mae.
CHORUS.
Oh, dearest Mae, you lubly as de day,
Your eyes are bright,
Dey shine at night,
When de moon am gwine away.
Old massa gib me holiday,
And say he'd gib me more ;
I tank'd him berry kindly,
And shoved my boat from shore ;
Oh, down de riber I glides along,
Wid my heart so light and free,
To de cottage ob my Tubly Mae,
I'd long'd so much to see.
Chorus,— Oh, dearest Mae, &c.
On de banks ob de riber,
Where de trees dey hang so low,
De coon among de branches play,
While de mink he keeps below;
Oh, dat is de spot,
And Mae she looks so neat,
Her eyes dey sparkle like de stars,
Her lips are red as beet.
Chorus. — Oh, dearest Mae, <fec
Benead de shady old oak-tree,
We sat for many an hour,
Happy as de buzzard bird
Dat flies about de flower;
But oh, dear Mae, I left her ;
She cried when boff we parted;
I bid sweet Mae farewell,
And back to massa started.
Chorus,— Oh, dearest Mae, &e»
20
Why don9t the Mien
Propose *?
~<>9&-
Why don't the men propose, mamma,
Why don't the men propose ?
Each seems just coming to the point,
And then away he goes !
It 13 no fault of yours, mamma,
That everybody knows ;
You fete the finest men in town,
Yet, oh, they won't propose !
They won't, they won't, they won't, they won't propose!
Mamma, mamma, they won't, they won't propose.
I'm sure I've done the best, mamma,
To make a proper match ;
For coronets and eldest sons
I'm ever on the watch.
I've hopes, when some distingue beau
A glance upon me throws ;
But though he'll dance and smile and flirt,
Alas ! he won't propose !
He won't, &c.
I've tried to win by languishing,
And dressing like a blue ;
I've bought big books, and talk'd of them
As though I'd read them through ;
With hair cropp'd like a man,
I've felt the head3 of all the beaux ;
But Spurzheim could not touch their hearts,-— »
And, oh, they won't propose !
They won't, &c.
I threw aside the books, and thought
That ignorance was bliss ;
I felt convinced that men preferr'd
A simple sort of Miss ;
And so I lisp'd out naught beyond
Plain " Yeses," or plain "Noes,"
And wore a plain, unmeaning smile,
Yet, oh, they won't propose.
They won't, &e.
21
Last night, at Lady Ramble's rout,
I heard Sir Harry Gale
Exclaim, " Now I propose again ;"
I started, turning pale, —
I really thought my time had come ;
I blush'd like any rose ;
But, oh, I found 'twas only at
Ecarte he'd proposed.
He won't, &c.
Oh, what is to be done, mamma
Oh, what is to be done ?
I really have no time to lose,
For I am thirty-one !
At balls I am too often left
Where spinsters sit in rows;
Why don't the men propose, mamma?
Why don't the men propose ?
They won't, &c.
"Where are tlie Friends *?
Where are the friends of my youth ?
Say, where are those cherish'd ones gone ?
And why have they dropp'd with the leaf?
Ah ! why have they left me to mourn ?
Their voices still sound in mine ear ;
Their features I see in my dreams ;
And the world is a wilderness drear ;
As a wide-spreading desert it seems.
Ah ! where are the friends of my youth?
Ah ! where are the cherish'd ones gone?
Ah! why have they dropp'd as the leaf?
Ah! why have they left me to mourn?
Say, can I ever again, —
Such ties can I ever renew,
Or feel those warm pulses again,
Which beat for the dear ones I knew?
The world as a winter is cold ;
Each charm seems to vanish away ;
My heart is now blighted and old ;
It shares in all nature's decay.
Ah ! where arc the friends, &c.
22
The May Queen.
f ©pied by permission of Oliver Ditsox & Co., 227 Wasliiagton-st
Boston, owners of the Copyright
Yon must wake and call me early, call me early mother dear;
To morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New-year;
Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'
the May.
I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never awake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break ;
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands
gay,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'
the May.
Little Effie shall go with me mother, to-morrow to the green,
And you'll be there too, mother, to see me made the Queen;
The shepherd lads on every side '11 come from far away,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o*
the May.
All the valley, mother, will be fresh, and green, and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
The rivulet in the flowery dale will merrily glance and play,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o'
the May.
The night winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow
grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they
pass ;
There will not be a drop oT rain the whole of the livelong
day.
For I'm to be Queen o' the Mi.y, mother, I'm to be Queen ©'
the May.
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother
dear,
To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad New-year,
To-morrow '11 be of all the vear the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen or
the Mav.
23
Oh! Silber Shining
Moon.
Last night, when de moon was beaming,
I stroll'd wid my Lucy lub ;
De flowers were sleeping around us,
An7 de stars were shining above.
We walk'd along by de brook-side,
Where I nebber wander'd before,
An' we heard de waters gurgling
Dar notes by de pebbled shore.
CHORUS.
Oh! silber shining moon,
Guide Ephram on his way,
An' soon you'll see, he'll married b«,
Oh ! what a happy day.
De night-hawk had sung his song,
De owl sang in de tree ;
De whippoorwills dey were waltzing,
Around my gal an' me.
I axed her if she would hab me,
A blush came o'er her cheek,
Her heart it palpitated,
And Lucy could not speak.
Oh ! silber shining moon, &c.
I took her in my arms,
An' tried to make her speak,
De tears as pure as drops ob dew,
Roll'd down her sable cheek.
At length she whisper'd in my ear,
An* said she would hab me soon,
I kiss'd away de dewy tears,
An' danced by de light ob de moon*
Oh ! silber shining moon, &c.
24
Ella I£ee.
Oh, Ella Ree, so kind and true
In the little churchyard lies,
Her grave is bright with drops of dew,
But brighter were her eyes.
Then carry me back to Tennessee,
There let me live and die,
Among the fields of yellow corn ,
And the land where Ella lie.
Chorus. — Carry me back to Tennessee, etc.
Her pretty eyes and gentle form,
Methinks I yet can see ;
I love the spot where she was born,
Way down in Tennessee.
Then carry me back to Tennessee,
There let me live and die,
Among the fields of yellow corn,
And the land where Ella lie, etc.
The summer moon will rise and set,
And the night-birds trill their lay,
And the possom and coon so softly step,
Round the grave of Ella Ree.
Then carry me back to Tennessee,
There let me live and die,
Among the fields of yellow corn,
And the land where Ella lie, etc.
The Carrier Dovei
Fly away to my native land, sweet dove,
Fly away to my native land,
And bear these lines to my lady-lo^b,
That I've traced with a feeble hAd.
She marvels much at my long delay,
A rumor of death stas has heard,
Or she thinks, perhaps, that I falsely straj ;
Then fly to her bower, sweet bird.
Oh 1 fly to her bower, and say the chain
Of the tyrant is o'er me now —
That I shall never mount my steed agaia,
With helmet upon my brow ;
25
No friend to my lattice a solace brings,
Except when your voice is heard,
When you beat the bars, with your suowy wingpf ;
Then fly to her bowe:*, sweet bird.
I shall miss thy visit at dawn, sweet dove,
I shall miss thy visit at eve ;
But bring me a line from my lady-love,
And then I shall cease to grieve.
I can bear in a dungeon to waste away youth,
I can fall by the conqueror's sword.
But I can not endure she should doubt my truth
Then fly to her bower, sweet bird.
Lulu is our Darling Pride.
Lulu is our darling pride,
Lulu bright, Lulu gay,
Dancing lightly at our side
All the livelong day.
Not a bird that wings the air,
Soaring to the sun,
Freer is from every care,
Thau our darling one.
cnoiius.
Oh ! Lulu is our darling pride,
Lulu bright, Lulu gay.
Dancing lightly at our side.
All the livelong day.
As the flowers of early spring
Seem more gay, seem more sweet,
As their perfume first they fling,
Fragrant at our feet ;
So though others loved there be]
Blooming in our bower,
Lulu wins our hearts, for she
Is our loyeliest flower.
Oh ! Lulu is our darling pride, eta
When the clouds of sorrow come,
Lulu soothes all our care ;
Ah ! how dark would be our home
Were not Lulu there !
Lulu, with her sunny smiles,
Cheering every heart,
Till each trouble* she beguiles,
And the clouds depart,
Oh ! Lulu is our darling pride, ete.
26
The Maniac.
Hush ! 'tis the night watch, he guards my lonely cell,
Hush I 'tis the night watch, hush ! 'tis the night watch.
Hush ! hush ! he comes to guard, to guard my lonely cell *
'Tis the night watch, he guards my lonely cell.
He comes, he comes this way — yes, 'tis the night watch,
Yes, 'tis the night watch — his glimmering lamp I see,
Hush ! 'tis the night watch — softly he comes.
Hush ! hush !
No, by Heaven ! no, by Heaven, I am not mad !
I loved her sincerely, I loved her too dearly,
I loved her in sorrow, in joy and in pain,
But my heart is forsaken, yet ever will awaken,
The memory of bliss which ne'er will come again.
Oh, my poor heart is broken ; Oh, my poor heart is broken t
I see her dancing in the hall, I see her dancing in th<* h*llf
I see her dancing — she heeds me not.
No, by Heaven ! no, by Heaven, I am not mad !
He quits the grate — he turns the key ;
He quits the grate — I knelt in vain ;
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see —
And all, and all is gloom again !
Cold, bitter cold ! no life — no light,
Life, all thy comforts once I had ; #
But here I am chain'd this freezing night.
No, by Heaven ! no, by Heaven, I am not mad I
For lo ! you, while I speak,
Mark how yon demon's eveballs glare,
He sees me now, with dreadful shriek,
He whirls, he whirls me in the air.
Horror ! the reptile strikes his tooth,
Deep in my heart so crush'd and sad !
Ay, laugh, ye fiends ! laugh, laugh ye fiends!
Yes, by Heaven, yes, by Heaven, they've driven me mti!
I see her dancing in the hall. I — ha, ha, ha, ha, ha !
Oh, release me ! oh, release me, she heeds me not !
Yes, by Heaven, yes, by Heaven, they've driven me mad.
27
-Ajnnie Lisle.
■**«<*-
Down where the waving willows,
'Neath the sunbeams smile:
Shadow'd o'er the murmuring watetBL
Dwelt sweet Annie Lisle,
Pure as the forest lily,
Never thought of guile
Had its home within the boscm
Of loved Annie Lisle.
Chorus. — Wave willows, murmur waters,
Golden sunbeams smile ;
Earthly music can not waken
Lovely Annie Lisle.
Swoet came the hallow'd chiming
Of the Sabbath bell,
Borne on the morning breezes
Down the woody dell.
On a bed of pain and anguish,
Lay dear Annie Lisle ,
Changed were the lovely features,
Gone the happy smile.
Chorus. — Wave willows, &c.
Toll bells of Sabbath morning,
I shall never more
Hear your sweet and holy music,
On this earthly shore.
Forms clad in heavenly beauty
Look on me and smile ,
Waiting for the longing spirit
Of your Annie Lisle.
Chorus. — Wave willows, &c
Raise me in your arms, dear mother
Let me once more look
Cn the green and waving willows,
And the flowing brook ;
Hark, those strains of angel music
From the choirs above ;
Dearest mother, I am going,
Truly " God is Iovp."
Chorus. — Wave willows, Ao.
28
The Lords of Creation
shall "Women obey.
The lords of creation men we call,
And they think they rule the whole,
But they're much mistaken after all,
For they're under woman's control.
As ever since the world began,
It has always been the way,
For did not Adam, the very first man,
The very first woman obey, obey, obey,
The very first woman obey ?
Ye lords, who at present hear my song,
I know you will quickly say,
M Our sizes more large, our nerves more strong ;
Shall the stronger the weakre obey ?"
But think not, though these words we hear,
We shall e'er mind the thing you say ;
For as long as a woman's possess'd of a tear,
Your power will vanish away.
But should there be so strange a wight
As not to be moved by a tear,
Though much astonish'd at the sight,
We shall still have no cause for fear.
Then let them please themselves awhile,
Upon their fanciec sway,
For as long as a woman's possess'd of a smile,
She will certainly have her own way.
Now, ladies, since, I've made it plain,
That the thing is really so,
We'll even let them hold the rein,
But we'll show them the way to go.
As ever since the world began,
It has always been the way,
And we'll manage it so that the very last man
Shall the very last woman obey.
29
The Irish Jaunting Car.
Mr name is Larry Doolan, I'm a native of the soil,
If you want a day's diversion, I'll drive you out in style,
My car is painted red and screen, and on the door a star,
A-nd the pride of Dublin City is my Irish jaunting car.
Chorus.
Then if you want to hire me, step into Mickey Mar's,
And ask for Larry Doolan, and nis Irish jaunting cars,
When Queen Victoria came to Ireland her health to revive,
She asked the Lord Lieutenant to take her out to ride,
She replied unto his greatness, before they travel' d far,
IIow delightful was the jogging of the Irish jaunting car.
I'm hired by drunken men, teetotalers, and my friends,
But a carman has so much to do, his duty never ends;
Night and day both wet and dry, I travel near and far,
And at night I count the earnings of my Irish jaunting car.
Some say the Russian bear is tough, and I believe it's true,
Though we beat them at the Alma and Balaklava too,
But if our Connaught Rangers would bring home the Russian
Czar,
I would drive them off to blazes in my Irish Jaunting Car.
Some say all wars are over, and I hope to God they are,
For you know full well they never were good for a Jaunting
Car,
But peace and plenty — may they reign here both near and far,
Then we'll drive to feasts and festivals iu an Irish Jaunting
<ar.
They say they are in want of men, the French and Englisk
too,"
And it's all about their commerce now they don't know what
to do ;
But if they come to Ireland our jolly sons to mar,
I'll drive them to the devil id my Irish j anting car.
The Modern Belle.
The daughter sits in the parlor,
And rocks in the easy chair —
She is dress'd in her silks aud satins,
And jewels are in her hair.
She smiles and she sniggles and simpers,
And simpers and sniggles and winlks,
And although she talks but a little,
"lis mostly more than she tninks.
Her father goes clad in his russets,
And ragged and seedy at that ;
His coat is out at the elbows,
And he wears a most shocking bad hat j
He is hoarding and saving his shillings,
So carefully day by day,
While she with her beavers and poodles,
Is throwing them all away.
She lies abed in the morning,
Till almost the hour of noon,
And comes down snapping and snarling.
Because they have call'd her so soon.
Her hair is still in the papers,
Her cheeks still daub'd with paint —
Remains of her last night's blushes,
* Before she intended to faint.
Her feet are so very little,
Her hands are so* very white ;
Her jewels are so very heavy,
Her head so very light ;
Her color is made of cosmetics,
But this she will never own ;
Her body's made mostly of cotton ;
Her heart is made wholly of stone.
She falls in love with t. fellow
Who swells wHh a foreign air;
He marries her for her money,
She marries him for his hair.
One of the very best matches !
Both are well mated in life :
gSie's got a fool for a husband,
And he's got a fool for a wife.
81
"Will INTotoocly Marry Mea
Heigh-ho ! for a husband ! Heigh-ho !
There's danger in longer delay !
Shall I never again have a beau,
Will nobody marry me, pray ?
I begin to feel strange, I declare,
With beauty my prospects will fade t
I'd give myself up to despair,
If I thought I should die an old maid f
Heigh-ho ! for a husband ! Heigh-ho !
"Will nobody marry me, say ?
Will nobody ? nobody ? no —
I once cut the beaui in a hulT ;
I thought it a sin and a shame
That no one had spirit enough
To ask me to alter my name !
So I turn'd up my nose at the short,
And roll'd up my eyes at the tall,
But then I just did it in sport,
And now I've no lover at all !
Heigh-ho ! for a husband ! Heigh-ho I -
Will nobody marry me, say ?
Will nobody ? nobody ? no !
These men are the plague of my life,
'Tis hard from so many to choose 2
Should any one wish for a wife,
Could I have the heart to refuse ? )
I don't know for none have proposed,
Oh dear me ! I'm frighten'd I vow !
Good gracious ! whoever supposed
That I should be single till now,
Heigh-ho ! for a husband ! IIeigh-h« 1
Will nobody marry me, say ?
Will nobodv ? nobody ? *o 1
33
Hattie Lee.
On the banks of the silver lake we oft have strayed,
"When the sweet spring-days were nigh,
When the waves against the beach gently played,
Sweet Hattie Lee and I.
Long years have passed since the hours,
When together we roamed, wild and free,
O'er the forest, the moorland, and the meadow,
My loved, lost Hattie Lee.
She'll roam not again in this bleak world,
This world rilled with trouble and care ;
For she's gone to the happy land above,
The place where bright angels are.
Long years have passed, etc.
Soon, soon, will I be with her,
Together we'll rest in peace above ;
Our hearts will there be united,
We'll be happy in each other's love.
Long years have passed, etc
Fairy Dell.
Wilt thou meet me in the Fairy Dell, love
When twilight draweth near ;
And I'll whisper what I have to tell, love,
Softly in thine ear ;
We will rove where fairies nightly trip, love,
When mortal steps be gone,
And the cup of happiness well sip, love,
Ere night's shade comes on.
CH0KU3.
Then meet me at twilight,
For I've something sweet to teli,
And you will hear it with more true delight,
If told in Fairy Dell.
Soon the twilight hour will be past, love,
That hour dear to me,
When all sorrow far behind I cast, lore.
As I fly to thca
33
Hasten quickly, ere the coming night, lore,
My fondest hopes dispel,
Ero the joyous dreams I've formed take flight, lore*
Haste to Fairy Dell.
I am weary waiting alone, love,
T'd ever be with thee,
Gould I hear once more thy gentle tone, love,
Ah, what joy to me ;
For my heart is so entwined with thine, love,
It lives but where thou art,
Oh, come, tell me that thou wilt be mine, love,
Never more to part.
I can not call her Mother.
The marriage rite is over ; and though I turned aside,
To keep the guests from seeing the tears I could not hide,
I wreathed my face in smiling, and led my little brother
To greet my father's choserT, but I could not call her
mother.
She is a fair young creature, with a meek and gentle air,
With blue eyes soft and loving, and silken sunny hair;
I know my father gives her tire love he bore another,
But if she were an angel I could not call her mother.
To-night I heard her singing a song I used to love,
When its sweet notes were uttered by her who singa
above ;
It pained m}r heart to hear it, my tears I could not smother,
For every word was hallowed by the dear voice of my
mother.
They've borne my mother's picture from its accustomed
place,
And set beside my father's a 3Touuger, fairer face ;
They've made her dear old chamber the boudoir of
another,
But I will not forget thee, my own, my angel mother
6
34
Three Grains of Corn.
Give me three grains of corn, mother, only three grains of
corn,
It will keep the little life I hare, till the coming of the more*.
I am dying of hunger and cold, mother, dying of hunger
and cold,
And, oh, the agony of such a death, the half was never toid.
It has gnaw'd like a wolf at my heart, mother, a wolf that is
fierce for blood,
AH the livelong day and the night beside, gnawing for lack
of food.
I dream'd of bread in my sleep, mother, and the sight was
heaven to see,
I woke with an eager famishing lip, but you had no bread for
me.
How could I look to yon, mother, how could I look to you,
For bread to give to your starving boy, when you were
starving too ;
For I read the famine in your cheek, and in your eye so wild,
And I felt it in your bony hand, as you laid it on your child.
The queen has lands and gold, mother, the queen has lands
and gold.
While you are forced to your empty breast, a famishing babe
to hold;
A babe that is dying of want, mother, as I am dying now,
With a look of woe in its sunken eye, and misery on its brow.
What has poor Ireland done, mother, what has poor Ireland
done,
That the world looks on and sees us starve, perishing one by
one?
Do the men of England care not, mother, the great men and
the high,
For the suffering sons of Erin's Isle, whether they live or die*
There is many a brave heart here, mother, dying of hunger
and cold,
While only across the Channel, are many who roll in gold ;
There are **ich and proud men there, mother, with wondrous
wealth to view,
Ai\d the crumbs that drop in their hall to-night would give
life to me and you.
Come nearer to my side, mother, come nearer to my side,
And hold me fondly as you held my father when he died,
Quick, for I can not see you, mother, my breath is almost gone,
Mother, dear mother, ere I die, give rne three grains of Som,
35
Gentle Hallie.
The sun has set in the west,
The moon is climbing the hill,
The old clock's striking the hour
We promised to meet by the mill;
I must bid her a long farewell,
And oh ! 'twill be with a sigh,
As I watch by the pale moonlight,
The tears that fall from her eye.
chorus.
Weep no more, gentle Hallie,
Let no tear-drop fall for me,
The stars will twinkle one by one,
And guide my bark safe o'er the sea
There's a charm in every thing near,
The sky, the earth, and the sea,
But my thoughts turn away from tfcose>
And lovingly go to thee.
The love that I cherish for them,
Is deep as such love can be ;
But deep as it is, is weak and faint*
Compared with my love for thee.
"When the slumbering sea lies still,
Unstirr'd by the breezes' breath,
And its stillness almost seems,
The pulseless calm of death ;
When I am far, far away,
Where'er my bark may be,
Aa the soft balmy air glides along;
Hay it bring some tidings of thee.
36
The Female Auctioneer.
Well here I am ; and what of that ?
Methinks I hear you cry;
I am come, and that is pat I
To see if you will buy ;
A female auctioneer I stand,
But not to seek for pelf,
For the only lot I've now on hand,
Is just to sell myself !
And I'm going, going, going, going,
Who bids, who bids for me ?
For I'm going, goiner, going, going,
Who bids, who bids for me?
Though some may deem me pert or bo,
They deal in idle strife.
For whcre's the girl, I'd like to know,
Would not become a wife?
Indeed, I really think I should,
In spite of all alarms.
So, bachelors, pray be so good
As just to take me to your arm?.
For I'm going, goiug, goiug, etc.
Ye bachelors, my way toward you
Should not your thoughts mislead,
I've never yet been called a flirt,
Or coquette— no. indeed !
W.y heart and haad I offer fair,
And if you buy the lot,
I'll vow alf Candling I will spare,
When Hymen ties the knot.
For I'm going, going, going, going, etc
OhL9 carry rue Home to Die-
Oh, carry me back to my childhood's home,
Where the ocean surges roar,
iVhere its billows dash on its ro3k-bound coast,
And moan for evermore :
Vm pining away in a stranger's land,
Beneath a stranger's eye.
Chorus. — Oh, carry me home, oh, carry me hoi&a,
Oh, carry me home to die.
I tirh In rain for my native hills,
Tneir sweet and balmy air,
37
Would waft awav from my youthful brow
Each trace of gloomy care :
I sigh to breath the air at home,
To gaze ou its starry sky.
Chorus.— Oh, carry me home, oh. carry me home,
Oh, carry me home to die.
I lon°: to see my mothe r again,
Ana hear her sweetly say,
" Come, my son, here "is thy home T
Then fold thy wings and stay."
'Twould ease my pain to hear her voice,
When death had darkened my eye.
Chorus— Oh. carry me home, oh, carry me home,
Oh, carry me home to die.
Then let me rest in a peaceful grave,
Beside the loved and dead,
For the quiet earth is the only place
To rest my weary head :
I would sweetly sleep if you buried me here,
Beneath my own native sky.
Chorus. — Oh, carry me home, oh, carry me home,
Oh, carry mc home to die.
Far, Far upon tile Sea.
Far, far npon the sea, the good ship speeding free,
Upon the deck we gather young and old,
And watch the flapping sail swelling out before the gale,
Full and round without a wrinkle or a fold ;
Or watch the waves that glide by the vessel's stately side,
Or the wild sea-birds that follow through the air ;
Or we gather in a ring, and with cheerful voices sing,
Oh. gayly goes the ship when ihe wind blows fair.
Far, far upon the sea, the good ship speeding free,
Upon the deck we gather young and old ;
Or we gather in a ring, and with cheerful voices sing,
Oh, gayly goes the ship when the wind blows fair.
Far, far upon the sea, whate'er our country be,
The thoughts of it shall cheer us as we go,
And Scotland's sons shall join the song of " Auld Lang Symi,*
With voice by memory soften'd, clear and low ;
And the sons of Erin's Isle, battling sorrow with a smile,
Shall sing "Saint Patrick's Morning " void of care ;
And thus we pass the day. as we journey on our way,
Oil, gayly goes the ship when the wind blows fair.
Far, far upon the sea the good ship speeding free,
We'll sing our native music void of care,
And thus we pass the day, as we Journey on our way,
Oh, gayly goes th* ship when the wind blows fail.
The Miller's Maid.
There blooms by the cot in the dale
A beautiful rose of the vale,
La la la la la la la,
A beautiful rose of the vale,
But more fair is the maiden,
That blooms on the spot,
Bhe's the loveliest flower,
That grows near the cot,
La la, &c.
A clashing young soldier came by,
Her voice, like a zephyr was nigh,
La la, &c.
Her voice like a zephyr was nigh,
Then he sought the' fair maiden
And wished for her name.
But her answer was only,
In wild notes, the same,
La la, <fec.
"Wilt thou be my love?" then he cried*
But still the gay beauty replied,
La la, &c,
But still the gay beauty replied,
u 1 will give you fair jewels
I'll give you bright things,"
But the maiden, unmindful,
Still merrily sings,
La la, <fcc,
The soldier, thought slighted, remains,
Her wild notes he has for his pains,
La la, &c,
Her wild notes he has for his pains,
And the song of the maiden
Is heard in the glen,
And as spring time returns,
May we hear it again.
La la, &c.
No. G 3
39
He I>oetli AU Things
^Well.
Copied by permission of Oliver DirCoN & Co , 2:27 "Washingtoa-st.,
B.ston, owners o." the Copyright.
I remember how I loved her, when, a little guiltless child,
I saw her ia the cradle, as she look'd on me and smiled ;
My cup of happiness was full ; my joy words can not tell ;
And i bless'd the glorious Giver, who " doeth all thinga
well."
Months pass'd — that bud of promise was unfolding every
hour ;
I thought that earth had never smiled upon a fairer flower ;
So beautiful it well might grace the bowers where angels
dwell,
And waft its fragrance to his throne, who " doeth all things
well."
Years fled — that little sister then was dear as life to me,
And woke in my unconscious heart a wild idolatry;
I worship'd at an earthly shrine, lured by some Magic gpell,
Forgetful of the praise of Him who " doeth ail things *y>il."
She was the lovely star whose light around my pathway
shone,
Amid this darksome vale of tears, through which I jour-
ney on ;
Its radiance had obscured the light which round his throne
doth dwell ;
And I wander' d far awav from Him who " doeth all things
well.
That star went down in beauty, yet it smileth sweetly now,
In the bright and dazzling coronet that decks the Saviour's
brow ;
v'd to the Destroyer, whose shafts nc-ne may repel ;
know, for God hath toll us, " He doeth all things
well.''
I remember well my sorrow, as I stood beside her bed,
And my deep and heartfelt anguish, when they told me sh«
iead ;
And, oh, that cup of bitterness ! let not my heart rebel !
God gave, he took, he will restore, " He doetfc ou things
well."
40
The Song- my IVIotlxez* u&ed
to Singf.
Oh ! Lady, sing that song again,
The one my mother used to sing :
It cheers my heart and I would fain
Listen to the strains that ring
So sweetly in my memory still,
As when she taught my childish Yoia©
To lisp the song— I loved it then :
Oh ! row it made my heart rejoice
" Lullaby, Lullaby,
Rest thee, my baby boyv
Lullaby, Lullaby/'
The song my mother used to sing.
Methinks I hear her lovely voice,
As first it full upon my ear,
The melody, it is my choice,
Sung by her, my mother dear;
So sweetly doth its cadence fall
L'pon my ravish'd soul, what bliss!
I can not think her dead and gone,
If I hear a strain like this ;
M Lullaby, Lullaby,
Rest thee, my babv boy,
Lullaby, Lullaby,"
The song my mother used to sing.
That strain, alas! it doth recall
Her lovely voice and image too,
And pains me much, for she hath gon«
To dwell in heaven beyond my view,
Yet sweetly doth its accents fall
Upon my ear, but not in vain:
The cold, cold grave and funeral pail
Will take me to her arms again.
44 Lullaby, Lullaby,
Rest thee, my mother dear,
Lullaby, Lullaby,"
The song my mother used to sing.
41
Not for Gold.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co.. Music Publisher*
277 Washington street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
Not for gold or precious stones
Would I change my mountain home;
Crowds and fashions of the town
Have no power to draw me down.
La, la, la, la, la, la, etc.
Here the heart beats true and warm,
Knows no fear in danger's storm ;
Truth and freedom flourish here,
In their native atmosphere.
La, la, la, la, la, la, etc.
Oft I climb and gaze alone,
From some airy Alpine throne,
With a feeling pure and high,
As of blessed spirits nigh.
La, la, la, la, la, la, etc.
I would breathe this air till death
Charms away my mortal breath,
Nursed above earth's poor alarms,
Here to wake in augels' arms.
La, la, la, la, la, la, etc.
Jane O'Malley.
I'll tell thee a tale of a maiden's veil,
It was worn by Jane O'M alley,
On the highland green her form was seen,
But she now sleeps in the valley.
Chobcs. — She now sleeps,
She now sleeps in the valley.
One year ago, when the sun was low,
Along with Elwyn Allv,
To chat and talk she took a walk,
But she now sleeps in the valley.
They talked of love, she stood above
A* rocky cliff with Ally,
Alas, she fell, he could not save,
And she now sleeps in the valley.
They searched around, till the spot was found,
\Yvhere straggled Jane O'Malley ;
Where the rock was cleft, her veil was left,
And she now sleeps in the valley.
43
The Old Mountain Tree.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
Oh ! the home we loved by the boundless leep,
Where the hills in glory stood,
And the moss-grown graves where our fathers sleepy
'Neath the boughs of the waving wood ;
We remember yet with a fond regret
For the rock and the flowery lea,
Where we once used to play thro' the long, long day,
In the shade of the old mountain tree.
Oh ! the time went by like a tale that's told
In a land of song and mirth,
And many a form in the churchyard cold,
Finds rest from the cares of the earth ;
And many a day will wander away,
O'er the waves of the western sea,
And the heart will pine, and vainly pray
For the grave by the old mountain tree.
We are pilgrims now in a stranger land,
And the joys of youth are pass'd,
Kind friends are gone, but the old tree stands
Unharm'd by the warring blast ;
Oh ! the lark may sing in the clouds of spring,
And the swan on the silver sea.
But we mourn for the shade where the wild bird made
Her nest in the old mountain tree.
Marion Lee.
Fair as the morning sun,
Her cheek with beauty glows ;
Oh ! sweet as the song-bird's lay
Her voice with music flows ;
That voice whose softest whisper
Might wake the coldest heart ;
That cheek whose faintest blushing
Love's pureness doth impart ;
Oh ! not in the loneliest bowers
A flower more rare can be ;
Oh ! dwells not in ocean's caves
A gem more bright than she.
43
Ne'er o'er her gladsome path
May late a shadow throw ;
Oh ! ne'er may a stain of grief
Rest on her gentle brow ;
If stormy winds of winter,
That blossom e'er should chill,
Affection, like the ivy,
Would cling around it still ;
Oh ! rivers may cease to run,
And seasons" fade and flee,
Yet naught e'er can change my love
For bonnie Marion Lee.
The Strawberry Grirl.
With the humblest stock in store,
Which is not my own,
I your patronage implore
For the sad and lone ;
List to little Julia's cry ,
Buy my strawberries — come buy !
Cheer'd by that good woman's lace,
Loaded* from that hand,
Which I found in market place,
Here I'll take my stand ;
And beseech those passing nigh,
Flowers and strawberries to buy.
Let an only grandchild's prayer,
Brave in duty's part,
Raise the s}-mpathetic tear,
Move the friendly heart ;
Aged grandparents alone,
Hungry wait for me at home.
While they're wretched, weak, and poor.
Begging's not so mean ;
They canvt go from door to door-
Childish though I seem,
All their wants I can supply —
Quickly then my strawberries buy.
44
Ok! Spare tlxe Old Home-
stead.
Oh ! spare the eld homestead,
Nor ruthlessly part,
The ties that have bound it,
So long to my heart,
When wand'ring and weary,
And burden'd with care,
A bright spot of sunshine,
Still beams for me there,
Then spare the old homestesd,
'Tis dear to me yet,
The home oTmy childhood,
I never can forget.
Oh ! spare the old homestead
TVas there I first knew,
The love of my mother,
Still changeless and true ;
A father's, a brother's,
A loved sister's care ;
Oh, these are the memories,
That beam on me there. Then spare, kc
Oh! spare the old homestead ;
Though moss overgrown,
Its halls are deserted,
Decaying alone,
Yet back to its hearth-stone,
My heart will repair,
As though its warm greetings.
Still welcomed me there. Then gpare, &a
Oh ! spare the old homestead
Till that pensive hour,
When age makes me weary,
And life yealdsits power!
Then bear me, when fainting,
To breathe its sweet air,
And die 'mid the sunshine,
That beam? on mo there. Then spare, kc*
45
The Young Recrrit.
See ! these ribbons gayly streaming
I'm a soldier now, Lizette ;
Yes, of battle I am dreaming,
And the honor I shall get.
With a saber by my side,
And a helmet on my brow,
And a proud steed to ride,
I shall rush on the foe.
Yes, I flatter me, Lizette,
*Tis a life that well will sui
The gay life of a young recruit.
"We will march away to-morrow
At the breaking of the day,
And the trumpets will be sounding;
And the merry cymbals play.
Yet, before I say good-by,
And a last sad parting take,
As a proof of your love,
Wear this gifc for my sake ;
Then cheer up, my own Lizette,
Let not grief your beauty stain,
Soon you'll see the recruit again.
Shame ! Lizette, to be weeping,
While there's fame in store for me 5
Think when home I am returning,
What a joyful day 'twill be,
When to church you're fondly led,
Like some lady smartly drest,
And a hero you shall wed,
With a medal on his breast.
Ha! there's not a maiden fair,
But with welcome will salute,
The gay bride of the young recruit
46
Tlie Blue •Juxiiata^
"Wild roved an Indian girl.
Bright Alfarata,
"Where sweep the waters
Of the blue Juniata.
Swift as an antelope,
Through the forest going,
Loose were her jetty locks
In wavy tresses flowing.
Gay was the mountain song
Of bright Altarata,
Where sweep the waters
Of the blue Juniata.
Strong and true my arrows are
In my painted quiver,
Swift goes my light canoe
Adown the rapid river.
Bold is my warrior good,
The love of Alfarata,
Proud waves his snowy plume
Along the Juniata.
Soft and low he speaks to me,
And then his war-cry sounding,
Kings his voice in thunder loud,
From height to height resounding.
So sang the Indian girl,
Bright Alfarata,
Wkere sweep the waters
Of the blue Juniata.
Fleeting 3-ears have borne away
The voice of Alfarata,
Still sweeps the river on,
Blue Juniata,
i
47
I'm Standing by thy
Grave, Mother.
Fm standing by thy grave, Mother t
The green turf binds it now :
A shadow deep and still, Mother!
Is on thy queenly brow !
As far off wand'rer to his home,
As pilgrim to his shrine,
Fve turn'd with willing steps, Motk«r!
To this dear grave of thine.
I'm listening to the song, Mother !
You used to sing for me,
When in the quiet eve, Mother!
I sat upon thy knee!
At that same hour, midst distant scenes,
Where happy voices ring,
Tve heard that same sweer, song, Mother!
But not as thou didst sing!
Tm listening to the prayer, Mother !
The prayer you used to say,
When, ere you laid me down, Mother!
You knelt with me to pray !
?n other lands — from other lips,
As pure as thine they say,
five heard that same sweet prayer, Mother!
But not as thou didst pray!
Fm kneeling on thy grave. Mother!
My pilgrim-task is done :
I7ow let thy spirit rest, Mother!
In blessings on thy son.
Oh, memory, spare ! They were the deeds
Of wayward boyhood's years!
Oh, take, 'tis all lean, Mother!
This offering of tears i
48
Riding on a Rail.
Copied V permission of Oliver Ditso.v & Co., 227 WashinftoP-afr
Boston, owners of the Copyright
Singing through the forest^
Rattling over ridges,
Shooting under arches,
Rumbling over bridges ;
Whizzing through the mountain.
Buzzing o'er the vale,
Bless me, this is pleasant
A riding on a rail.
CHORUS.
Singing through the mountain,
Buzzing o'er the vale,
Bless me, this is pleasant,
A riding on a rail.
Men of different stations,
In the eye of fame,
Here are very quickly
Coming to the same ;
High and lowly people,
Birds of every feather,
On a common level,
A traveling together.
8tranger on the left
Closing up his peepers,
Now he snores amain,
Like the seven sleepers;
At his feet a volume
Gives the explanation,
How the man grew stupid
All from association.
Ancient maiden lady
Anxiously remarks,
That there must be peril
'.Mong so many sparks;
Boguish-looking fellow,
Turning to a stranger,
Says it's his opinion
She is out of danger.
Woman with her baby,
Sitting vis-a-vis,
Babv keeps a squalling,
Woman looks at me,
Asks about the distance,
Says it's tiresome talking,
Noises of the cars
Are very, very shocking.
Market-woman careful
Of the precious casket,
Knowing eggs is eggs,
Tightly holds her basket 5
Feeling that a smash,
If it "came, would surely
Send her eggs to pot
Rather prematurely.
Old Homestead.
Old homestead ! old homestead ! what feelings arise,
As now the old homestead greets kindly our eyes ;
Old homestead, where oft we were merry or sad,
Each day as it fled, still some witchery had.
Old homestead ! how dear is its old friendly look ;
Its dim rolling hills and its slow murmuring brook ;
Its time-worn old gables, its cornice so plain ;
Its roof which grew mossy from shadow and rain.
Old homestead ! some dwelt with us, loved us here ;
Some smiled at our smile, and they wept at our tear
Of those some have gone to a far distant land,
And some where yon pines like proud, pale weeper*
stand.
Sweet memories most thrilling, most holy, most de&z;
Still cluster around thee, old homestead, fore'er.*
Thou hast a deep magic that never can die,
Till 'neath the green valley we endlessly lie.
_J50
Why Chimp, lie Bells so Merrily ?
Copied by permission </" Oiiter Ditson & Co.. Music Publishe* I
277 Washington sUe-ct, Boston, owners of the copyright.
Why chime the belle so merriiy, why seem ye all so gay?
Is it because the new year's come, and the old has passed away !
Oh, can ye look upcr. the past, and feel no sorrow now,
That thus ye sing so joyously, and smiles light every brow .
Oh, if ye can be blithe and gay, the song troll gayly on,
And the burden be the new year's come and the old year's gona.
The old man gazes on the mirth, he smiles not like the rest,
He sits in silence by the hearth, and seems with grief oppressed*,
He sees not in the merry throng the child who was his pride,
He listens for her joyous song, she is not by his side ;
But scarce a twelvemonth she was there, and now he is alone,
Yet still ye sing the new year's come and the old year's gone.
Dance on, dance on, be blithe and gay, nor pause to think
the while,
That ere this year hath passed away ,ye,too, may cease to smile ;
For time, in his resistless flight, brings changes sad and drear,
The many hopes of youth to blight, with every coming year ;
But still be happy while ye may, and let the dance go on,
Still gayly sing, the new year's come and the old year's gone.
Spirit Voice of Belle Brandon.
List, my love, I me«i thee here,
AVhile eveniug's lonely shadows fling
Leaflets of memory o'er thy cheer,
I come on cleaving spirit wing,
From afar beyond the cloud,
From the realms of bliss above,
Where there is no death to shroud,
I come to thee to sing, my love.
Chords. — Do not weep o'er the sleep,
Of the form beloved by thee,
Which was laid in the shade
Of our old arbor tree.
When ava's stars are burning bright
At that sweet hour we loved so well,
List, my love, the footsteps light
Of thy angel birdling Belle;
01
Her spirit hand's within thine own,
And rustling near her zeph'rous wings,
While through woodland haunts we roam-
To thee, her love, she ever sings.
Do not weep, etc.
When wooing spring awakes the flowers,
And forestbirds are warbling free,
From the seraph's singing bowers,
Will I come, my love, to thee.
Then at evening's dreamy hour,
When the day hath sunk to rest,
And the toils of life are o'er,
Will I bear thee to the blest.
Do not weep, etc.
What is Home without a Sister?
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publisher^
277 W ashington street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
What is home without a sister ?
What are all the joys of youth,
If in infancy we missed her,
And her prattling tales of truth
Sweet affectiojas may surround us,
And a moth'er's tender care,
But the magic fails to charm us
If no sister's love be there.
In her childhood, sweet affections
Spring around her spotless heart,
Hallowing each year reflections,
Prompting to the better part ;
And when sorrow's deep emotion
Glides upon our stricken years,
Oh, what kindness and devotioc
Doth she breathe to quell our feart
Much we love a gentle mother,
Much we prize a father's tear.
And we love a kindly brother,
But a sister's love's most dear;
Death and changes never ceasing,
Oft our parents bear away,
While a sister's love's increasing,
Growing stronger day by day.
54
The Cottage of my IVIotlier*
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., 227 "Washington 'St.#
Boston, owners of the copyright.
I live among the hills in the cottage of my mother,
My bonnie playmates are a sister and a brother;
The hills are ever green, and blooming are the flowers,
Oh, who has ever seen more happy home than ours.
The little stream runs near from purest fountain springing!
And every morn we hear its silvery echoes singing ;
The little birds are free as they play among the fountains,
While their notes of liberty run o'er the distant mountains.
On each returning spring when snow has gone and sleighing,
We hear the blue birds sing, and see the young lambs play-
ing;
'Tis then our hearts are gay and merrily pass the hours,
As to the fields we stray and gather sweet May flowers.
Oh, never can I change the cottage of my mother,
O'er this wide world to range to dwell in any other ;
When she is old and gray I'll never seek to roam,
My hand shall be her stay in that dear mountain home.
The Bloom is on tlie [Rye.
-»•<»■
My pretty Jane, my pretty Jane,
Ah, never, look so shy,
But meet me, in the eve'ning
While the bloom is on the rye.
The spring is waning fast, my love,
The corn is in the ear,
The summer nights are coming, love,
The moon shines bright and clear.
Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane,
Ah, never look so shy,
But meet me, in the evening,
While the bloom is on the rye.
But name the day, the wedding-day,
And I will buy, the ring,
The lads and lasses there, in favors whit^
And the village bells shall ring.
Then pretty Jane, Ac.
55
Bonnie Dundee.
To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke :
44 Ere the King's crown go down, there are crowns to bo
broke,
So each cavalier who loves honor and me,
Let him follow the bonnet of Bonnie Dundee.
CHORUS.
11 Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can,
Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men,
Come, open the West Port, and let me gae free,
And it's room for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.
** There are hills beyond Pentland and streams beyond
Forth,
If there's lords in the Southland, there's chiefs in the North,
There are wild dunnie va'ssals three thousand times three,
Will cry hey for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee."
Choru3. — Come, fill up, etc.
Dundee he k mounted, he rides up the street,
The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat,
But the Provost, douce man, said, 4C Just e'en let him bo,
The town is well quit of that de'il of Dundee."
Chorus. — Come, fill up, etc.
14 Away to the hills, to the woods, to the rocks,
Ere I own a usurper, I'll crouch with the fox ;
And tremble, false whig*, though triumphant ye b«#
You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me."
Chorus.— Come, fill up, etc.
58
The IVffei~x\y Sleigli Xfcide.
VTerrily dash we o'er valley and hill,
All but the sleigh-bells are sleeping and still ;
Bless the dear sleigh-bell ! there's naught can compare
To its loud merry peal, as it breaks on the ear.
As swiftly o'er valley and mountain we rove,
The moon riding brightly and calmly above,
Dull sorrow shall hear its inspiriting knell
In the loud, cheerful peal of the merry sleigh-belL
chokus.
Merrily dash we o'er valley and hill,
All but the sleigh-bell is sleeping and still ;
Bless the dear sleigh-bell ! there's naught can compare
To its loud merry peal, as it breaks on the ear.
Now kiss'd by the moonbeams, outstripping the wind,
The cool sweeping night gale is parting behind ;
Nor leave we it aught oufileet pathway to tell,
But the far distant peal of the merry sleigh beil.
Where the white plain is smoothest, in safety we ride,
Where the deep drift is highest, we fearlessly glide,
O'er the steep we ascend, and we plunge through the
dell,
To the loud lively peal of the -merry sleigh-belL
Merrily dash we o'ur valley and hill, etc.
The Mountaineer's Farewell.
I have come from the mountains of the Old Granite State,
Where the hills are so lofty, magnificent and great ;
I have left kindred spirits in the land of the blest,
WThen I bade them adieu for the far distant West.
Oh,thy mountains, oh,thy valleys in my own native State
I have come from the mountains of the Old Granite State
Where the hills are so lofty, magnificent and great.
Oh, thy hills and thy valleys are sacred all to me,
No matter what in lands of others I may see,
I may view scenes so sunny, so fair and so smooth,
Then I'll think of my cottage that stands in the grove ;
Oh,my childhoocl,my homestead, in my own native State
Oh, thy hills and thy valleys are sacred all to me,
Nf matter what in lands of others I may see.
57
When I think of the fair one who once was my pride,
As she roved among the mountains so closely by my side,
Then I sigh for the days that never will come back,
For she sleeps on the shores of the old Merrimac,
Oh, that loved onel Oh, that graveyard, in my own
native State !
I will oft think of her who once was my pride
As she roved among the mountains so closely by my side.
A mother dear I've lost, she's gone to the grave,
She was the dearest blessing that God ever gave ;
Xot.v I go to the spot, where buried is the loved,
And I seem to hear her singing with the angels above
Oil, my mother, I bless her ashes, in my own native State ;
A mother dear I've lost, she's gone to the grave,
She left her orphan weeping, to go to God who gave.
I'll JPsxclclle my own Canoe.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publ isheri
277 Washington street, Boston, owners of the eopyright.
I've left my loved and sacred home,
I've bade my friends adieu,
O'er hill and dale I've sped my way,
To paddle my own canoe.
cnoiius.
I'll paddle my own canoe ;
I'll paddle my own canoe ;
O'er hill and dale I've sped my way,
To paddle my own canoe.
m press my way thotujh sometimes drear,
The place in which I go-
Though dangers start the quelling tear,
I'll paddle my own canoe.
And through the world alone I'll roam,
O'er land and ocean blue,
And though the struggle oft is hard,
I'll paddle my own canoe.
Ride on, my boat, ride on, be free,
And stem the tide in view,
The future's but a dark, lone sea,
I'll paddle my own canoe.
58
Sailor-Boy's Last
Dream.
In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay,
His hammock swung loose at the ports of the wind,
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
Then fancy her magioal pinions spread wide ;
And bid the young dreamer in ecstasy rise ;
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch,
And the swallow sings sweet from her nest on the wall ;
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight :
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear,
And the lips of the boy, in the love-kiss unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds deer-
The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,
Joy quickens his pulse — all his hardships seem o'er,
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest —
" 0 God ! thou hast blest me, I ask for no more."
Ah ! whence is that flame that now bursts on his eye?
Ah! whence is that sound which now larums his ear?
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky ;
'Tis the crashing of thunders ; the groan of the spheres!
He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts him with images dire ;
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck—
The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire ;
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell —
In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ;
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave*
Oh ! sailor-boy ! woe to thy dream of delight ;
In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss—
Where new is the picture that fancy touch'd bright?
Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's honey'd kiss ?
Oh, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred thy wishes repay ;
Unbless'd and unhonor'd, down deep in the main,
Full many a fathom thy frame shall decay.
Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll ;
Earth lose3 thy pattern forever and aye —
Oh, sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! peace to thy soul !
Dear 3Iother5 I'll Come
Home agraiii.
Oh ! mother dear, I sigh in vain,
To Kve my childhood o'er again,
And see thy clear, love-beaming eye
Outshining stars up in the sky ;
Oh, mother dear, bright sunny rays,
That give such joy and heavenly bliss,
As by thy knee I used to pray,
Or climb'd to steal affections kiss.
Oh, mother dear, those early scenes,
The flowery fields and meadows green,
As thoughts come back I heave a sigh,
And wish for happy days gone by ;
Long since I left my native shore,
But now my heart beats just as then,
Though miles of sea between us roar,
Dear mother, I'll come home again.
60
"Say Yes Pussy."
She sat close by his side,
His face with fear was wan :
He could not, though he tried,
Propose, that timid man.
He moved uneasy in his seat,
She ask'd him, was he ill ?
He only shuffled with his feet,
His bosom's pain to still.
" Yes, no — no — Yes — not very well"
He said, with ghastly smile,
"But oh, I dare not, dare not tell,
What ails me all this while :
I've very often tried to say,
Think of me if you can :
I hope I am not in the way."
He was a timid man.
A fav'rite Tabby lay,
Upon the lady's lap :
All in her own sleek way,
Taking a quiet nap :
" Oh, puss," she thought
" I wish you'd tell.
All that heVants to know,
I really like him very well,
But must not tell him so.
I'm sure you're very, very kind,"
She slowly thus began —
" But 1, but I've made up my mind
Never to think of man ;
I never could consent to change
You should have ask'd before :
At least, that is, 'tis very strange,
1 can not tell you mora."
61
He gave up all for lost,
Took up his hat to fly ;
But ere the room he cross'd,
He heard a gentle sigh ;
With beating heart he turn'd him round,
Then hit upon this plan,
His eyes were cast up on the ground,
That very timid man.
" 0 Pussy Cat" said he,
" Were I to ask her now,
D've think your mistress would have me
Would listen to my vow ?"
Aloud his thoughts he trembling spoke,
And paused to hear his doom :
"Say yes, Pussy, say yes, Pussy,"
The lady answer'd soon.
The Grave ofWashington.
Distnrb not his slumbers, let Washington sleep,
•Neath the boughs of the willow that over him weep
His arm is unnerved, but his deeds remain bright,
As the stars in the dark vaulted heaven at night.
Oh ! wake not the hero, his battles are o'er,
Let him rest undisturb'd on Potomac's fair shore ;
On the river's green borders so flowery dress'd
With the hearts he loved fondly, let Washington rest,
With the hearts he loved fondly, let Washington rest.
Awake not his slumbers, tread lightly around,
'Tis the grave of a freeman, 'tis Liberty's mound.
Thy name is immortal, our freedom ye won,
Brave sire of Columbia, our own Washington.
Oh ! wake not the hero, his battles are o'er,
Let him rest, calmly rest, on his dear native shore ;
While the stars and the stripes of our Country shall ware,
O'er the land that can boast of a Washington's grave,
O'er the laud that can boast of a Washington's grave.
Jenny Lane.
When I wag young and in my prime,
I loved sweet Jenny Lane ;
She return'd my love, and since dat time
Has nebber caused me pain ;
Her roice it sound so sweet and clear,
As on my ear it came,
The thrilling tones went to my heart,
When spoke by Jenny Lane.
CHORUS.
Strike the chords ! sound the horns !
Jenny's dead and gone,
No more she'll hear the banjo's strain,
Pretty Jenny Lane.
Now time flew by, we both got old,
Dear Jenny Lane and I ;
She den to me the story told,
"Dear Joe, I'se gwine to die."
Her eyes drew dim for death drew near,
And with it sorrow came ;
It took me from my only love,
My own dear Jenny Lane.
Strike the chords, &c.
And oft when evening gathers round,
I seek dat sacred spot;
With tears I strew the grassy moun€^
And mourn my lonely lot ;
The weeping willow covers her,
I know she's free from pain;
But oh, I feel dis heart will break^
For my dear Jenny Lane.
Strike the chords, &c.
63
Joanna Snow.
Hi tins to vou a new song about Joanna Snow,
She 11 de'Belle of all de South,
'War down D6low :
She dances all de Polkas,
She dances Schottish well ;
Oh ! if dare ebber was de like,
I wish some one would tell.
chorus. — Darkies don't you know,
Joanna Snow, all de go ;
Yes you know.
She's to go,
'Way down below.
She's de terror ob de color'd gals, de envy ob de beaux ;
She is de flower ob all de South, de Coal Black Rose :
She wakes in de mornin', early as de dawn,
Playing on her instrumen, de Old Dinner Horn.
chorus.— Darkies don't you know, &c,
"When we go in de field to work, she fills our baskets well,
And says when we get hungry, we've only her to tell ;
She bakes de nicest hoe cakes, made out ob Judien Corn,
And when she gets them done up brown, she blows de dinnar
horn.
chorus.— Darkies don't you know, &c.
Eb'ry day my color'd gal comes trippm' o'er 'de lawn,
Her steps are light and graceful as de waving ob de corn;
She play'd upon the banjo de day dat she was born,
And eber since dat time, she plays de Old Dinner Horn.
caoRCs. — Darkies don't you know„ £<af
64
Meet Me by the Run-
ning Brook.
Meet me by the running brook
Where the silvery waters flow ;
Meet me in the shady nook,
Where the drooping willows grow ;
Friends we loved are broken-hearted,
Smiles have flown and tears have started,
Since the time when last we part'd,
In the clays of long ago.
Meet me when the starlight plays
O'er the wavelets bright and low ;
Tell me of our youthful days,
E'er the heart knew pain or woe ;
Joy will come to charm or leave ua,
Lingering hope will still deceive uf,
Life had nothing dark to grieve aa,
In th* dajs of long ago.
BEADLE'S
Song Book
No. 7,
A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPULAR
COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL SONGS,
COMPKISING
THE LATEST AffD BEST PEODUCTIONS
OF
STEPHEN C. FOSTER.
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
CW YORK: 118 WILLIAM ST.
LONDON: 41 PATERNOSTER ROW.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860.
Bt IRWIN P. BEADLE & CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States,
for the Southern District of New York.
& B: No. 7
JUL:
CONTENTS No. 7.
PAQl.
A ride I once was taking, ..... 62
Beautiful Venice, 22
Billy Patterson, 15
Breeze of the night, 20
Bright-eyed little Nell of Narraganset Bay, 6
Come, Willie, dear, I'm weeping now, 16
Deal with me kindly, 49
Doicy Jones, 32
Down among the cane-brakes, - ... 9
Fairy Belle, 80
Farewell, old cottage, 59
Ho, gondolier, awake, *37
How shall I watch thy coming? - - • - 18
Hush-a-b}', baby, 33
I love my native land, ------ 61
It is recorded, 47
I wish I was in Dixie, No. 1, - - - - - 12
I wish I was in Dixie, No. 2, 13
Julianna Johnson, ---•--•38
Lily Ray, --35
Little Daisy, 16
Little Ella, 34
Maggie by my side, 25
Maggie, the pride of the vale, 24
Mary May, 17
Mary's welcome home, 2'?
Massa's in de cold ground, - - . . - 4(j
Massa sound is sleeping, - .... 41
My brodder Gum, 39
My canoe is on the Ohio, ----- 44
My old house, my dear, happy home, - - - 37
My own mountain home, 23
Nelly Bly, 11
No, thank you, sir, 10
hr CONTENTS NO. 7.
FAGS.
Oh, don't you remember the time, - • - - 50
Oh, I'm a jolly bachelor, 20
Old Ironsides, 30
Old K. Y. Ky, - - 14
Our Union, right or wrong, - 46
Over the summer sea, -----. 18
Paddy Boghree, 35
Queen Mary's escape, -----. 59
Revolutionary times, -..-.. 56
Ring de banjo, -------45
RoyNeill, 54
She's black, but that's no matter, ... 53
Ship on fire, -- 28
Some folks, 55
Take me home to die, 43
The anchor's weighed, 51
The Glcndy Burk, 8
The evening gun, - - - - - - 51
The happy Switzer, GO
The home I leave behind me, 19
The messenger bird, 24
The Newfoundland dog, 26
The old stage coach, 42
The pilot, 64
The reefer's song, 36
The sleighing glee, 21
The star of my home, - - - • - - 48
Under the willow she's sleeping, 62
Virginia Belle, --.-••• 5
Way down in Cairo, ------ 52
We are coming, sister Mary, - • . . - 7
Who'll have ine ? 25
Willie, my brave, ---•••-81
Will you list tome, Nellie? 58
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK
IsTo. 7.
Virginia Belle.
0*pi«d bj permission of Firth, Poxd k Co., 647 Broadway, O'
of tho copyright.
Fairer than the golden morniug,
Gentle as the tongue can tell,
Was our little laughing darling,
Sweet Virginia Belle.
Bright Virginia Belle, Dear Virginia Belle,
She bereft us when she left us, Sweet Virginia Belli
How we used to roam together,
O'er the mountain, through the dell,
In the smiles of spring-time weather,
Sweet Virginia Belle.
Chorus. — Bright Virginia Belle, <fce.
She was blithe as any fairy,
Winning hearts with fairy spell,
Tripping with a footstep uiry —
Sweet Virginia Belle.
Chorus. — Bright Virginia Belle, kc.
While her life was in its morning,
Came her sad and solemn knell {
She was taken without warning-
Sweet Virginia Belle.
r3korui. — Bright Tirginia Belle, &c
Bright-Eyed Little INTell of
Narraganset Bay.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond k Co , 547 Broadway, owner*
of the copyright.
Full well do I remember my boyhood's happy hours,
The cottage and the garden, where blooni'd the fairest
flowers ;
The bright and sparkling water o'er which we used to sail,
With hearts so gay, for miles away, before the gentle gale.
I had a dear companion, but she's not with me now,
The lily of the valley is waving o'er her brow;
And I am sad and lonely, and mourning all the day
For bright-eyed laughing little Nell of Narraganset Bay.
CHORUS.
Toll, toll the bell at early dawn of day,
For lovely Nell so quickly passM away ;
Toll, toll the bell a soft and mournful lay,
For bright-eyed laughing little Nell of Narraganset Bay.
I loved the little beauty, my boat it was my prido,
-And with her close beside me, what joy the foam to ride *
She'd 1 ugh with tone so merry to see the waves go by,
As wildly blew the stormy wind and murky was the sky ;
Though lightnings flash d around its, and all was dark
and drear,
We loved to brave old Ocean, and never dreamed of fear;
The Arrow bounded onward and darted through the spray,
With bright-eyed laughing :ittle Neil of Narraganset Bay.
Chorus.— Toll toll the bell, kc.
One day from us she wanderM, and soon within the boat
The cord was quickly loosen d and with the tide afloat ,
The treacherous bark flew lightly and SAvift before the
wind,
While home, and friends, and all so dearv were many miles
behind.
Next day her iorm all lifeless waswashM upon the beach,
1 stood and gazed upon it, bereft of sense and speech.
'Tia years since thus we parted, but here 1 weep to-day
For bright-eved laughing little Nell of Narraganset Bay.
Chorus.— Toll toil the bell, &§.
We are coming^ Sister
IVTary.
tfopied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., M7 Broadway
owners of the copyright.
On a stormy night in winter,
When the wind* blew cold and wet,
I heard some strains of music,
That I never can forget ;
I was sleeping in the sabin,
Where lived Mary, fair and young,
When a light shone in the window,
And a band of singers sung —
We are eoming, Sister Mary,
We are coming by-and-by.
Be ready, 6ister Mary,
For the time is drawing nigh.
I tried to call my Mary,
But my tongue could not obey,
When the song so strange had cnd«4^
And the singers flown away.
As I watched I heard a rustling.
Like the rustling of a wing,
And beside my Xary's pillow
Vary soon I heard them 6ing —
We are comiug, &o,
Then again I called my Mary,
But my sorrow was complete,
For I found her heart of kindneaf
Had forever ceased to beat;
And new I am very lonely,
From summer round to spring;
And I oft, in midnight slumber,
Think I hear the same ones sing —
We are coming, ka.
The Glendy Burk.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, owneu
of tlie copyright.
De Glendy Burk is a mighty fast boat,
Wid a mighty fast captain too,
He sits up dah on de hurricane roof,
And he keeps his eye on de crew.
I can't stay here, for dey -work too hard ;
I'm bound to leave dis town ;
Til take my duds and tote 'em on my back
When de Glendy Burk comes down,
CHORUS.
Ho! for Lou'siana!
I'm bound to leave dis town ;
Til take my duds and tote 'em on my back
Whea de Glendy Burk comes down.
De Glendy Burk has a funny old creWj,
And dey sing de boatman's song,
Dey burn de pitch and de pine knot, too,
For to shove de boat along.
De smoke goes up and de ingine roars,
And de wheel goes round and round,
So fare you well 1 for I'll takfc a little ride
When de Glendy Burk comes down.
I'll work all night in de wind and storm,
Til work al day in de rain,
Till I find nv self on do levy-dock
In New Orleans again.
Dey make me mow in de hay-field here,
And knock my head wid de flail,
Ifll go wha dey work wid de sugar and decan^
And roll on de cotton bale.
My lady love 13 as pretty as a pink,
I'll meet her on de way.
I'll take her back to the sunny old south
And daa I'll make her stay.
So don't you fret, my honey-dear,
Oh ! don't you fret, Mm Brown,
I'll take you back 'fore de middle ob de week,
When de Glendy Bork comes down.
Down among- tlio Cane*
Brakes.
Copied bj permission of Firth, I'oxd <fc Co., 547 Broad war, o
of the copyright.
Oh ! I will sing a lay !
Once I was young and ga}%
"When I was far away,
Down among the cane-brakes.
CHORUS.
Down among the cane-brakes, on the Mississippi shore,
All ! those happy days will come back no more !
Yes, I was free from care ;
All was bright summer there;
Dark days to me were fair,
Down among the cane-brakes.
C horns. — Down among, etc.
There lived my mother dear,
Gone from the earth, I fear;
There rang our voices clear,
Down among tixo cane-brakes.
Chorv*. — Down among, etc
There lived a lovely one,
Who like the rest has gone;
She might have been my own,
Down among the cane-brakes.
Chorus.— Down among, etc.
Long years have glided by,
Since then I breathed eaeh sigh,
May T return to die,
Down among the cane-brakes.
Chorus. — Down among, etc.
10
No, Thank You, Sir.
" Come hither little Fairy May, my bride if you Trill be,
I'll give you silks and satins bright, most beautiful to see;
I'll bring you to my castle hall, 'mid lords and ladies gay ;"
"No, thank you, sir, I'd rather not," quoth little Fairy May.
"No, thank you, sir, TV. rather not," quoth little Fairy May.
CHORUS.
Fairy May, quoth little Fairy May ;
•'No, thank you, sir, I'd rather not," quoth little Fairy May.
Says mother, " He's a proper ycrath ; say yos, girl, there's
a dearie ;"
"Say no, Miss Pride," her father cried, "I'd only like to
hear ye!"
But still for all that they could do, and all that they could
say,
"No, thank you, sir, I'd rather not," quoth little Fairy May.
" No, thank you, sir, I'd rather not," quoth little Fairy May.
" Come, Fairy May, your words unsay, you silly little goosie I
You know within your heart of hearts, you wouldn't like
to lose me :
You'll never see me here again, if once I go away :
" Well, sir, and much I care for that !" quoth little Fairy May.
u Well, sir, and much I care for that !" quoth little Fairy May.
^Lose such a prize," her father cries; "say yes, or else
I'll make ye!"
Her mother scoids — u A wilful chit t I've half a mind to
shake ye ;"
But still for all that they could do, and all that they could
say,
" No, thank you, sir, I'd rather not," quoth little Fairy May.
" No, thank you, sir, I'd rather not," quoth little Fairy May,
H
.bat- /7I
Nelly Bly.
Nc^ly Bly ! Kelly Bly ! bring de broom along" ,
We'll 6wecp de kitchen clean, my dear, and hab a littlt
song.
Poire de wood, my lady lub, and make de fire burn ;
And, while I take do banjo down, just gib de mush a turn.
Heijh! Nelly, ho ! Nelly, listen, lub, to me ;
I'll sing for you, play for you, a dulcem melody.
Nc'ly Bly hab a voice like de turtle-dove,
I h^.ars it in de meadow and I hears it in de grove ;
Ncly Bly hab a heart warm as a cup of tea,
AlJ bigger den de sweet potato down in Tennessee.
Heigh ! Nelly, ho ! &c.
Nelly Bly shuts her eye when she goes to sleep,
When she wakens up again her eyeballs 'gin to peep ;
De way she walks, At lifts her foot, and den she brings it
down,
And when it lights, der's music dah in dat part ob de
town.
Heigh ! Nelly, ho ! &c.
Nelly Bly ! Nelly Bly ! nebber, nebber sigh,
Nebber hring de tear-drop to de corner ob your eye ;
For de pie is made ob punkins, and de mush is made ob
corn,
And der's corn and punkins plenty, lub, a lrin' in de barn.
Heigh ! Nelly, ho ! Sic.
12
■ ■in .. a -,■ ,m. ■ . .. ; ■■ . m »
I wish. I was in Dixie's Land.
Copied by permission of Firth, Poxd & Co., 547 Broadway, owners
of the copyright.
r
I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Old times dar am not forgotten ;
Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! Dixie Land.
In Dixie Land wbar I was born in,
Early on one frosty morning
Look away ! Look away ! Look away ! Dixie Land.
Chortis. — Den I wish I was in Dixie, hooray! hooray I
In Dixie Land I'll took my stand,
To lib an' die in Dixie, away ! away !
Away down south in Dixie, away ! away f
Away down south in Dixie.
Old Missus marry "Will de weabcr,"
Willium was a gay deceaber ;
Look away ! &c.
I>ut when he put his arm around 'er,
He smiled as fierce as a forty-pounder.
Look away ! &c.
His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber,
But dat did not seem to greab 'er ;
Look away ! &c.
Old Missus acted de foolish part,
And died for a man dat broke her heart.
Look away ! &c.
Now here's a health to the next old Misaus,
An' all de gals dat want to kiss us :
Look away ! &c.
But if you want to drive 'way sorrow,
Come an' hear dis song to-morrow.
Look away ! &c.
Dar's buckwheat cakes an' Ingen batter,
Makes you fat or a little fatter ;
Look away ! &c. j
Den hoe it down an' scratch your grabble.
To Dixie Land I'm bound to trabble.
Look away ! &c.
13
I wish. I wa^ in IDixie^ No. 2.
BY WALTE.1 ft. TETEHS, ESQ.
[Note.— In the popular mythology of New York city, Dixie's
wa* the negro's paradise on earth in times when slavery and the
tlave-trade were nourishing institutions in that quarter. Dixie
owned a tract of land on Manhattan Island, and also a largo
number of slaves ; and his slaves increasing faster than his land,
an emigration ensued, such as has taken place in Virginia and
other btates. Naturally, the negroes who left it for distant
parts looked to it as a place of unalloyed happiness, and it was
the ''Old Yirginny" to the negroes of that day. Hence Dixie
became synonymous with an ideal loea'Uy, combining ineffable
happiness and every imaginable requisite of earthly oeatitude.
— w. h. p.]
Come along, boys, come out in ttr». fields,
The moon is bright and shines rigat cheerily,
Ho, boys, for the days of yore ;
Bring alon'g the girls and we'll have \ Terry time,
Never mind the clew, but come along merrily,
Ho, boys, for the days of yore,
cnoncs.
For I was born in Dixie, yo ho, yo ho, boys !
The happy land, the merry land of Dixie, there I liv«4. In c'CYAr,
The lana, the land, the sunny, sunny, happy land oi DixJe*.
Tho\and, the land, that beats tho wide world over.
Nature, boys, kind goddess that she is.
Cares for us all. boys, tenderly, motherly,
Ho, boys, for the days of yore;
Our youth flies fast but "memories last,
Then let us meet to-night right brotherly,
Ho boys, as in days of yoro,
The locks grow white, but the heart keeps green.
And blooms like a flower, boys, type of serenity,
Ho, boys, for the days of yore*;
Then hand in hand, as in Dixie's land.
Dance again to-night, boys, meet with a«aenHy,
Ho, Doys, for the day's of yore.
I wish I was in Dixie, vo ho, yo ho,
•;allth
There is no land like D'ixie all the wide world over.
The land, the land, the happy land of Dixie, vo ho, yo h<\
The land, the merry, happy hmd, where all the airs were cl«*ei
14
Old. Kl. Y. ttiy.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway
owners of the copyright.
De snow am in de cloud,
Chorus. — Oh, whose foot dat a burnin'?
De wind does whistle loud,
Chorus. — Oh, whose foot dat a burnin'?
We'll round de fire crowd,
Chorus. — Oh, whose foot dat a burnin'?
Dat foot did come, it told me so.
Away from old K. Y. Ky.
CHORUS.
"Whose foot dat a burnin'?
Oh, whose foot dat, I say?
Oh, whose foot dat a burnin'?
Oh, take dat foot away.
Oh, whose foot dat a burnin'?
Oh, whose foot dat, I say,
Dat foot did come, it told me so,
Away fron. old K. Y. Ky.
Ob course I took my seat,
And den stuck out my feet,
To cotch in all de heat.
De fire got too hot,
While 'fore it I did sot,
I fast asleep did got.
De shoe begin to pinch,
Dis niggar nebber flinch,
I couldn't- move an inch.
Somebody's foot must roast,
Some foot as hot as toast,
It crack like hickory post,
De hide begin to peel,
'Tis mine. I 'gin to feel
De fire at my heel I
15
Billy Patterson.
Copied by permission of Firth, Poxd k Co., 547 Broadway, owner*
of the copyright.
Dar was an old nigg dat got hit wid a brick,
Chorus. — Oh ! Billy Patterson.
He wasn't knock'd down, kaze his head too thick ;
Chorus. — Don't ye tell me, don't ye tell me.
De first word he said when he was come too,
Chorus. — Oh! Billy Patterson.
u0h, don't hit agin, for dat will do!"
Chorus. — Don't ye tell me, don't yc tell me.
CHORUS.
Bill Patterson rode by, u Old Bill your horse will die!"
44 He dies, I'll tan his skin; he lives, I'll ride agin!"
I'll gib ten dollars down, and leab dera In my will,
Jf any one can show de man dat ebber struck old Bill.
I eat up de goose dat raised de quill,
Dat wrote de question : " Who struck Bill ?"
I work'd at de kiln whar de brick was burnt,
But who throw'd de brick was nebber learnt
I knows ob a chap dat's up to de fun.
ne knows who Struck Bill Patterson ;
But take my word, he will nebber tell,
Unless somebody pays him well.
Dar's one ting sartin an' plain for to sec,
'Twas neider "Sayres" nor "Morrisey;"
Dey both told me (or I is a liar),
'Twa3 eider "Heenan" or "old Tom Hyer."
Money in de pocket shines so bright,
Old Bill got struck on Saturday night;
De lightning flash — he seen d j seben stars !
He tink he was struck wid de bullgine cars!
If ebbcr you get to de "Fiddler's Green,"
A labelM niggar can dar be seen,
Wid a sign on his back dat weighs a ton,
"I'm de darkie what struck Bill Patterson I *
16
Little T>ais,y.
Little Daisy, darling !
Where the birds are singing,
And the flowers are springing,
Quiet is thy rest;
Where the dew-drops glisten,
And the stream is laving,
And the willow waving
O'er thy peaceful breast.
CHORUS.
Daisy dear! Daisy dear! Cold thy brow!
But our little Daisy is an angel now. (Repi4T.)
Little Daisy darling !
Where thy steps are straying,
In the greenwood playing,
Merry, light, and gay ;
Oh, how drear and lonely,
On the breezes sighing
To our hearts replying,
Thou art gone away.
Little Daisy, darling 1
Thou art gone forever,
And 'tis hard to sever
Ties so strong and deep ;
But the cherish d blossom,
By our father given,
Is recall'd to heaven,
And we may not weep.
Ooine Willie Dear, I'm Weeping.
Come Willie dear, I'm weeping now
The early blossoms deck the waving bough ;
Gay heather-bells nod in the dells,
But winter clouds are on my lonely brow.
Come, oh ! come to our highland home j
Gay heather-bells nod in the dells,
But winter clouds are on my lonely brotr.
There's greetin' here sin' o'er the sea
Went cauthie heart and cantie laugh wi' the© ;
The birds of spring sae sweetly sing,
Then Willie dear, oh ! Willie come to me.
17
Come, oh ! come to our highland home ;
The birds of spring sae sweetly sing,
Then Willie dear, oh ! Willie come to mo.
Come Willie dear, my heart is lone ;
The nightshade clings to the deserted stone;
Aboon the spring the Laverocks sin£,
While I join in the mateless Cushat a moan.
Come, oh ! come to our highland home ;
Aboon the spring the Laverocks sing,
While I join in the mateless Cushat's moaa.
Come, Willie dear, our trvsting tree,
Stands a' the same sin' ye stood there wi' me ;
Each whisn'ring bough sighs softly now,
Come, Willie dear, oh ! Willie come to me.
Come, oh ! come to our highland home ;
Each whisn'ring bough, sighs softly now,
Come Willie dear, oh I Willie come to me.
Mary May.
They have chosen the proud stranger,
Because a lord was he,
Who could boast of wealth and riches,
And a line of high degree.
They have left me here to languish, •
To fade and pine away,
They have made the world a desert,
Bereft of Mary May.
When I met her in the valley,
And wander'd by her side,
She told me that she loved me,
And vow'd to be my bride.
They have torn the tie asunder,
She now is far away,
They have left me broken-hearted,
Bereft of Mary May.
She is happy with the stranger,
While i am left alone,
There's naught remains to cheer me,
Since Mary May is gone.
I'll seek some distant dwelling
And bear my grief away.
You'll hear thart I am dying
For thee, my Mary May.
18
How shall I watch Thy Com Ing ?
Linger not long, linger not long,
llome is not home without thee ;
Its dearest tokens only make me mourn,
Oh, let its inem'ry like a chain about thee,
Gently compel and hasten thy return ;
Linger not long, linger not long,
Linger not long, linger not long,
How shall I watch thy coming
As evening shadows stretch o'er moor and fell,
When the wild bee hath ceased her weary humming,
And silence hangs on all things like a spell ;
Linger not long, linger not long.
How shall I watch, how shall I watch
For thee when fears grow stronger,
As night grows dark and darker o'er the hill ;
How shall I weep when I can watch no longer,
Oh, art thou absent, art thou absent still ;
Linger not long, linger not long.
Haste, haste thee home, haste, haste thee 1 caie
Unto thy mountain dwelling;
Haste as a bird unto its peaceful nest,
Haste as a skiff when tempests wild are swelling,
Flies to its haven of securer rest ;
Linger not long, linger not long.
Orer the Summer Sfea.
Over the summer sea,
With light hearts gay and U©et
Join'd by glad minstrelsy,
Gayly we'er roaming ;
Swift flows the rippling tide,
Lightly the zephyrs glide,
Round as on every side,
Bright crests are foaming
Fond hearts entwining,
Cease ail repining,
Near us is shining
Beauty's brig] it smile.
19
List ! there's a bird on high,
Far in yon azure sky,
Flinging sweet melody,
Each heart to gladden ;
Hark 1 its song seems to say,
44 Banish dull care away,
Never let sorrow stay,
Brief joys to sadden."
Fond hearts entwining,
"Who'd be repining,
While near is shining,
Beauty's bright smile.
The Home 1 Leave Behind Me.
The home I leave behind me,
My dear old cottage home 1
To thee what ties now bind me,
As parting hour has come I
I go maybe forever,
Through other scenes to roam,
But I'll forgot, oh, never,
My dear old cottage home !
How sweet each scene of childhood
Brings mem'ries fond to me 1
The brook, the lane, the wildwood,
The seat beside the tree ;
The song the birds were singing,
Before my little room,
And dear ones ever bringing
Sweet thoughts of my old home %
WTien sad and lone I wander
In lands beyond the sea,
My heart will still grow fonder,
My dear old home, for thee.
To me sweet mem'ries ever
Will come where'er I roam,
And I'll forget thee never,
My denr old cottage homt!
20
Oh. I'm a Jolly Bachelor.
Oh, I'm a jolly bachelor, my life is gay and free,
I have no wife, or children dear, nor cares to worry me ;
My life is spent in gayety, with boon companions three,
And none of us are bound for life to any horrid she.
Oh, I'm a jolly bachelor, willi heart and fancy free,
And ever more my song shall be a single life for me.
When we get home from work at night, no squalling babe
lies there
To rack our brains, and make us find some gentle way to
swear;
No wife comes in with — " My dear John ! I want a bonnet
new ;
Mv last silk dress is out of date, I want one trimmM with
blue."
And then, if late at night we stay at suppers, or on sprees,
N'o caudle lecture waits at home to rob us of our ease ;
But right to bed we put ourselves determined to sleep
sound,
And never wink an eyelid more till break of dawn comes
round.
And if at home I wish to have a oxuiet game and smoke,
My chums are not afraid to come, and shades of wine in-
voke:
For wife's not there to mar our sport, or inuendoes dart,
'Bout noisy fellows, drunken louts, who never will depart,
Now all ye gay young bachelors example take by me,
Keep shy of all the female sex, or you will married be;
And then forever you're undone, no more can you breathe
free ;
Your wife the chains of love will wind around your liberty.
81
The Sleighing-Glea
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily o'er the fleecy snow,
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily on we go.
Swiftly o'er the snow we go,
Moonbeams sparkle round ;
Hoofs keep time to music's chime,
Merrily on we bound.
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily o'er the fieecy snow,
Away ! away ! away wTe go,
Merrily on we bound.
Jing, jing, jing, etc.
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily o'er the fleecy snowt
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily on we go
Glide along with laugh and son&
O'er the fleecy snow;
Swiftly ride with friends beside,
Cheerily on we go.
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily o'er the fleecy snow,
Away ! away ! away we go,
Merrily on we bound.
Jing, jing, jing, etc
22
Mary's Welcome Home.
My Mary comes, it is the hour
She promised to be here^
Taught by love's strange mysterious powsr,
I know that she is near.
I hear the melody she sings,
Beneath our happy dome,
And now the woodland clearly rings,
With Mary's u welcome home."
And now the woodland clearly rings,
With Mary's " welcome home."
My Mary's voice, I hear it thrill
In raptures on the gale,
As she comes tripping down the hiH,
To meet me in the vale.
In all the world, on land or sea,
Where'er I chance to roam,
No music i3 so sweet to me,
As Mary's "welcome home."
No music is so sweet to me,
As Mary's "welcome home."
Beairtiful Venice.
Beautiful Venice! city of song!
What mem'ries of old to thy regions belong !
What sweet recollections cling to my heart,
As thy fast-fading shores from my vision depart!
Oh, poesy's home is thy light colonnades,
Where the winds gently sigh as the sweet twilight fades.
I have known many homes, but the dwelling for me,
Is beautiful Venice, the bride of the sea.
Beautiful Venice ! queen of the earth,
Where dark eyes shine brightly, 'mid music and mirth,
Where gay serenaders, by light of the star,
Oft mingle their song3 with the dulcet guitar;
All that's lovely in life, all that's deathless in song;
Fair Italy's isles to thy regions belong.
I have known, etc.
23
My own Mountain Home.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway
owners of the copyright.
Oh, how I do love thee,
My own mountain home,
Embower'd with flowers,
Which fragrantly bloom
Around me wherever
I wander or stay,
'Mid the gloom of the night,
Or the radiance of day.
My soul thrills with rapture,
As the voice of the breeze
Sports wild o'er the mountains,
Or sighs in the trees ;
And swells with emotion,
As I hear far away
The notes of the wild-birds,
So sweet and so gay.
When wearied with straying,
I lay me a-down
Beneath the blue sky,
Or the vine-cover'd ground,
To hear the sweet voices
Of the silvery rills,
As they sportively leap
Down tno mountain and hills.
How soft sigh the zephyrs,
How fragrant the air,
That fans the bright flowers
That bloom o'er me there!
Oh ! I could forever
In ecstasy roam
Amid the wild scenes
Of my own mountain ho»#
I love thee, I love thee,
My own mountain home I
Bmbower'd with flowers
Which fragrantly bloom
Around me, wherever
I wander or stray,
Mid the gloom%f the nigbt.
Or tbe radiance of day.
24
Maggie, the Pride of the Yale.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond <& Co., Mu3ic Publishers,
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
I once loved a damsel whose raven black hair,
And bright yellow skin was my heart's sad despair ;
'T was midsummer's morn, in the bright sunny dale,
When first I met Maggie, the Pride of the Vale.
Her lip like the coral, ner teeth ivory white,
'Twas the rose and the lily, the shade and the light ;
The bright Naiad Queen from the ocean's deep wail,
Could never compare with the Pride of the Vale.
CHORUS.
But Maggie, dear Maggie, thou hast faded away,
Like the flower that blooms in the bright sunny Ma^,
Thy dark eye hath faded, thy cheek hath grown pafe,
Poor Maggie, the Pride of the Vale.
Now May-day may come, and midsummer bloom,
No joy now remains, all is sadness and gloom,
As lonely I wander o'er hill and through dale,
And list for the voice of the Pride of the Vale.
And around the old oak that I've watered with tears,
And shelter'd the grave of my Maggie for years,
Will some kind-hearted friend but place a lone rail,
And scratch on the old tree " The Pride of the Vale."
Chorus. — But Maggie, dear Maggie, etc.
The Messenger Bird.
ihou art come from the spirit's land thou bird,
Thou art come from the spirit's land ;
Tbrongh the dark pine-grove let thy voice be heard,
And tell of the shadowy band.
We know that the bowers are green and fair,
In the light of the summer shore,
And we know that the friends we have lost are there,
They are there, and they weep no more.
But tell us, thou bird of the solemn strain,
Can those who have loved forget ?
We call and they answer not again,
Oh ! say, do ihey love us yet ?
We call them far through the silent night,
And they speak not from cave uor hill ;
We know thou bird ! that their land is bright,
But say, oh ! say, do thd^ love there still ?
25
Maggie \>y my Side.
Copied by permission of Fibth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
The land of my home is flitting, flitting from my view,
A gale in the sail is sitting, toils the merry crew ;
Here let my home be, on the waters wide
I roam with a proud heart, Maggie's by my side.
CHORUS.
My own loved Maggie, dear, sitting by my side,
Maggie, dear, my own love, sitting by my side.
The wind howling o'er the billow from the distant lea,
The storm raging 'round my pillow brings no care to mo
Roll on, ye dark waves, o'er the troubled tide,
I heed not your anger, Maggie's by my side.
Storms can appall me never while her brow is clear,
Fair weather lingers ever where her smiles appear ;
When sorrow's breakers 'round my heart shall hide,
Still may I find her sitting by my side.
Who'll have Me?
Who'll have me, who'll have me, as a partner for life ?
I address those young men who are seeking a wife.
Say, say, will you have me, and I'll be to you,
A firm and sincere friend, both constant and true ;
Who'll have me, who'll have me, you'll never regret,
The choice that you've made, or the day that we met,
I can sing, I can play, I can sew, I can darn,
And what I don't know, I am willing to lam,
And what I don't know, I am willing to lam;
Who'll have me, who'll have me, sing tra la la, etc.
Who'll have me, who'll have me, for better or worse ?
I'll attend to your home, I'll attend to your purse,
I'll be with you in weal, I'll be near you in woe,
In fact, I'll be with you wherever you go.
Who'll have me, who'll have me, oh, dear, Tm afraid,
I shall pine to a shadow, and die an old maid ;
Oh, say, will you have me, decide and pray tell,
In a few lines address'd to your dear Isabel,
In a few lines address'd to your dear Isabel;
Who'll have mc, who'll have me, sing tra la la, ate.
36
The Newfoundland Dog.
Life- saver ! — wave-stemmer ! — deep-diver ! away !
Night's shadows are closing the portals of day ;
On the breast of the billow we hear his low wail,
We have put up the rudder and furled up the sail.
No signal from heaven will show where he be,
And where'er he be driven we men can not see.
Ho ! Carlo ! Newfoundland ! go follow his cry,
As it gaspingly answers the sea-moaners sigh,
The boat shall be lowered, the men shall belay —
Life-saver 1 — wave-stemmer ! — deep-diver ! away !
Away ! fetch him out ! fetch him up ! seize him ! ho !
Mount the wave, dog! mount the wave, dog! ha! dowa,
down below !
Hark ! watch ! bear a hand ! bring a light — not a sound 1
Bring a light ! hark ! there's a moan. Yes, the wavei
moaning over the drowned.
God's spirit preserve him, amen and amen.
Hist ! a flash — and a motion — ha, Carlo ! ha, Carlo ! again,
Good dog, then, good dog, then, bear a hand, then, pull tight
A boat-hook, a boat-hook, he's in and all's right,
Come, Carlo, quick, follow, fine fellow, hard strife,
Wave-stemmer deep-diver! we owe you a life!
Breeze of the Night.
Breeze of the night, with your gentlest breatk,
Echo my heart in its sighing ;
Whisper low in the captive's ear,
Hope like my love is undying.
Awake ye your sweetest numbers,
Yet break not his happy slumbers ;
In dreams of joy let the captive sleep,
In dreams of joy let the captive sleep,
But let him not know that I wake and weep,
Ah, let him know not that I wake and weep.
Play round his couch with your healing wings,
Fraught with the perfume of roses;
Give back health to his fevered lip,
While in a dream he reposes.
Awake ye your sweetest numbers,
Yet break not his happy slumbers, etc
27
Ho! Gondolier Awake.
Copied by penniseion of Firth, Po.xd & Co., 547 Broad-ray, owners
of the copyright.
Haste gondolier, and row us o'er the gently rippling lake,
To yonder shrine we haste away,
The matin-bell now chides our stay,
We may not wait the coming day,
IIo ! gondolier awake.
Why on thine oar reclining,
Broad day will soon be shining,
Why thus to sloth inclining,
Ho ! Gondolier awake.
The matin-bell now chides our stay,
We may not wait the coming day,
Ho ! gondolier, and row us o'er the gently, gently rippling
lake.
We may not linger on the shore,
Then launch thy bark once more,
Ho ! gondolier, and row us o'er the gently rippling Jake.
Why on thy oar reclining,
Broad day will soon be shining,
Why thus to sleep inclining,
Row, row VL3 o'er the gently rippling lake,
Come, row us o'er the gently, gently rippling Uke,
28
Ship on Fire.
The storm o'er the ocean flew furious and fast,
And the waves rose in foam at the voice of the blast ;
And heavily labor'd the gale-beaten ship,
Like a stout-hearted swimmer, the spray at his lip;
And dark was the sky o'er the mariners' path,
Except when the lightning illumined it in wrath.
A young mother knelt in the cabin below,
And, pressing her babe to her bosom of snow,
She prav'd to her God 'mid the hurricane wild,
11 O, Father ! have mercy, look down on my child. "
ft pass'd — the fierce whirlwind carcer'd on its way,
And the ship like an arrow divided the spray ;
Her sails glimmer'd white in the beams of the moon,
And the breeze up aloft seem'd to whistle, to whistle a tuno,
And the wind up aloft seem'd to whistle, to whistle a tnn«.
There was joy in the ship as she furrow'd the foam,
For fond hearts within her were dreaming of home.
The voting mother press d her fond babe to her breast,
And sang a sweet song as she rock'd it to rest ,
And the husband sat cheerily down by her side,
And iook'd with delight on the face of his bride.
"Oh, happy," said he, *• when our roaming is o er,
We'll dwell in our cottage that stands by the shore;
Already, in fancy, its roof I descry,
And the smoke of its hearth curling up to the sky;
Its garden so green, and its vinc-cover'd wall,
The kind friends awaiting to welcome ns all,
And the children that sport by the old oaken tree,"—
Ah, gently the ship glided over the sea.
29
Hark ! what was that ? Hart, hark ! to the shout—
44 Fire I" then a tramp and a rout ;
And an uproar of voices arose in the air,
And the mother knelt down, and the half-spoken prayer
That she offer'd to God in her agotiy wild
Was. "Father have mercy, look down, look down on my child."
She flew to her husband, she clung to his side,
Ah. there was her refuge, whate'er might betide.
Fire! fire ! it was raging above and below ;
And the cheeks of the pailors grew pale at the sight,
And their eyes glistcn'd wild in the glare of the light.
'Twas vain o'er the ravage the waters to drip,
The pitiless flame was the lord of the ship ;
And the smoke, in thick wreaths, mounted higher and higher
" O, God ! it is fearful to perish by fire ;
Alone with destruction, alone on the sea,
Great Father of mercy, our hope is in Thee."
Sad at heart and resigned, yet undaunted and brave,
They lower'd the boat, a mere speck on the wave;
First enter'd the mother enfolding her child,
It knew she caress'd it, look'd upward and smiled.
Cold, cold was the night, as they drifted away,
And mistily dawn'd o'er the pathway the day;
And they pray'd for the light, and at noontide about
The sun o'er the waters shone joyously out.
"Ho ! a sail ! ho ! n sail !" cried the man on the Ice ;
" Ho ! a sail !" and they turn'd their glad eyes o'er the sot
" They sec us ! they see us ! the signal is waved !
They bear down upon us. they bear down upon u«,
They bear down upon us. the signal is waved—
lliank God I thank God, we're saved I"
30
Fairy Belle.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publisher!,
647 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
The pride of the village, and the fairest in the dell,
Is the queen of my song, and her name is Fairy Belle
The sound of her light step may be heard upon the hill,
Like the fall of the snow-drop, or the dripping of the rilL
CHORUS.
Fairy Belle, gentle Fairy Belle,
The star of the night and the lilly of the day ;
Fairy Belle, the queen of all the dell,
Long may she revel on her bright, sunny way.
She sings to the meadows, and she carols to the streams,
She laughs in the sunlight,and smileswhile in her dreams;
Her hair, like the thistle-down, is borne upon the air,
And her heart, like the humming-bird's, is free from
ev'ry care.
Her soft notes of melody around me sweetly fall,
Her eye, full of love is now beaming on my soul ;
The sound of that gentle voice, the glance of that eye,
Surround me with rapture that no other heart could sigh,
Old Ironsides.
Once more afloat our gallant ship sweeps,
Proudly o'er the heaving sea ;
With canvas swelling to the breeze,
And pennons waving high and free.
The sparkling waves salute her course,
As round her sides they briskly play ;
And graceful bending to the foam,
She onward breasts her steady way.
Speed on ! speed on ! thou noble bark,
O'er rolling billows gayly ride ;
Let cannon notes in threat proclaim
That thou wilt never be defied.
Thou oft hast braved the storm and battle,
And never yet hast braved in vain ;
And should thy foes still dare assail thee,
We'll show thine u Ironsides" again.
Willie, my Brave.
On the lonely sea-beat shore
A maiden fair was weeping,
Calling one who far away
Beneath the wave was sleeping.
Thus her sad unchanging strain
Floated ever on the main —
" Come o'er the billow, ride on the wave,
Come while the wind bloweth, Willie, my brave !•
He said his bark would soon return,
And with a kiss they parted;
But when a year had pass'd away,
She then grew weary-hearted.
Oh ! 'twas sad, from day to day,
To hear the maiden'? plaintive lay —
44 Come o'er the billow, ride on the wave,
Come while the wind bloweth, Willie, my bravo P
None who knew the maidens grief,
And saw her heart's devotion,
Would tell her of the fragile bark,
That sank beneath the ocean ;
But when all hope had pass'd away,
Her life breathed forth its parting lay —
a Come o'er the billow, ride on the wave,
Come while the wind bloweth, Willie, my brave I*
32
Dolcy Jones.
Copied hy permission of Firth, Poxd k Co., 547 Broadway,
of the copyright.
Oh ! ladies don't you wonder
When I again appear;
I've just been ober yonder
To see my Dolcy dear ;
For Dolcy steps so lightly
Among de bricks and stones,
Her eyes dey shine so brightly,
Oh ! dad da, D1 D' Dolcy Jones !
Chorus. — By, by, my darling !
Sleep to de rattle ob de bones/
Slumber till morning,
My lubly Dolcy Jones !
Oh ! when I go a courting,
I ride through mud and raia ;
I leabe de old boss snorting
At de corner ob de lane.
I find my Dolcy weeping,
And charm her mid de bones;
Bye'n-by I leabe her sleeping,
Oh ! dad da, D' D' Dolcy Jones 1
I went up town dis morning
To sing a little song ;
Miss Dolcy sent me warning
To bring my boots along ;
For de yard is paved wid cinder,
And de house is built ob stones,
And a head is at de window,
Oh ! dad da, D' D' Dolcy Jones !
33
Hush-a-by, Baby.
**0*5
"When but a little fellow, I'd nothing much to do.
But run about of errands, and black voting massa's shoe.
The case is very different now ; I have to noe and rake,
With scarcely time, of mornings, for to eat my corn-meal cake.
But I di£, digr, di» dig, dig, a-dig,
Dig all the livefong^day T
The worst of all trouble," to a darkey is to dig.
Though he ain't troubled much With the pay.
Old Missus tried persuading, and old Massa he did fret,
Because young Massa was away, accumulating debt ;
Old Mas*a sent a letter to young Massa. with advice.
For the future to do better, and to marry something nice.
Chorus.— But I dig, dig, etc.
So my young Massa Harry ** kinder sorter '' shook his head,
Resolved at once to marry, as he " oner." so he said:
And he found a planter's daughter, very pretty, rich, and tall,
Went right away to court hci\ pleased the lady, friends, and alL
Chorus.— But I dig, aig, etc.
The summer had departed, and gone were all the flowers ;
Cold autumn had arrived, with all its misty, moisty showers.
When home came my young Massa, with a very sweet young
bride.
Far sweeter than the honcvcoinb. without a bit of pride,
Chorus. — But I dig. dig. etc.
With old familiar faces, young Massa stay'd at home,
Never went to balls nor races, never fell inclined to roam;
At last there came a little child, in the rosy month of Jmie,
And the old folks and the young folks all began thU stlf-i
tune.
CHORUS.
Hush-a-by, babv. upon the tree-top.
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock;
When the bough bends, the cradle will fall-*
Down comes rock-a-bw cradle, and all.
No. : 2
34
Little Ella.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broaiwjg
owners oi the copyright.
Little Ella, fairest, dearest,
Unto me and unto mine,
Earthly cherub coming nearest
To my dreams of forms divine.
Her brief absence frets and pains me,
Her bright presence solace brings
Her spontaneous love restrains me
From a thousand selfish things.
Little Ella moveth lightly
Like a graceful fawn at play,
Like a brooklet running brightly
In the genial smile of May ;
Like a breeze upon the meadows
All besprent with early flower*,
Like a bird 'mid sylvan shadows
In the golden summer hours.
Little Ella brings a blessing
With her bright nnd winning smil*,
With her frank and fond caressing,
And her prattle free from guile.
When I hear her footsteps bounding
In the hall or through the grove,
And her voice with joy resounding,
'Tia the music that I love.
35
Lily Ray.
Copied by permission of Perth, Pond & Co., Music Publiehen,
647 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
While in their sunny bowers sweet birds rejoice,
Mingling with budding flowers love's gentle voice,
Grief, to thy memory, tuneth a lay,
Lovely departed one, sweet Lily Ray.
When slumber's dreamy light o'er me is thrown,
Calling in visions bright days that are gone,
While round my drooping heart joy seems to play.
Fondly I dream of thee, sweet Lily Ray.
When liquid melody falls on mine ear, ,
Then I impulsively dream thou art near,
But when a gentle form passeth away,
6adly I mourn for thee, sweet Lily Ray.
Paddy Boghree.
Och, Paddy Boghree, my heart isn't free,
And this you know, oh, Paddy Boghree ;
Tis yourself gives me trouble, and makes my heart sore
By the powers I'll scorn you, think on you no more;
But your cheeks is so red, and your eyes are bo Um,
When you look at me kind, och, it pierces me thr\«*gh
Och, Paddy, be dacent, make love to me right,
And I'll be yours forever, from morning till nigk,
Sure once every week we tiff and don't speak,
And then my heart it is dreadfully weak ;
Next morning you come with grief on your face,
Looks beaming with kindness, no anger I trace;
Be good, now, you villain, and act so no more,
Bure I'd beg the bread for you from cabin to cloor;
I love you so much, and you know it, you do,
Tis nieself is the fool for loving you so.
The Reefer's Song8.
Oh ! what is so gay as a reefer's life !
With his junk and Jamaica by him,
He cares not a fig for the morning's strife.
He seeks but the foe to defy him ;
He fights for his honor and country's laws,
He fights for the mother that bore him, —
And the hireling slave of a tyrant's cause
"Will quail, like a coward, before him.
The deep may unfetter its surges dread,
The heavens their thunders awaken,
The tempest howl as it sweeps overhead, —
He smiles at all danger unshaken ;
With an unblench'd eye, and a daring form,
He fearlessly gazes before him,
Though he fall in battle, or sink in the storm,
His country, he knows, will weep o'er him.
In her sun-lit valleys arc daughters fair
To greet us from battle returning,
With their song and smile to banish each care
By the hearth-fire cheerily burning.
Oh ! who would not fight for beings like these,
For mothers, for grandsires hoary?
Like a besom we'll sweep the foe from the seaa^
Or die, in the strife, full of glory.
3?
My old House, my dear
happy Home.
There's a spot that I love, there's a home that I prize,
Far better than any on earth,
It is bound to my heart by the holiest ties,
And I prize, oh ! how fondly, its worth ;
'Tis not beauty nor splendor endears it to me,
Ah ! no, for its grandeur hath flown,
But 'tis fondest affection that binds me to thee,
My old house, my dear happy home.
Oh, home ! what dear magic is in that sweet sound.
How closely it speaks to the heart,
What a word of deep tenderness in thee is found,
Oh, who from such treasure could part ;
Could barter the joys of a sweet home of love,
For a path in the wide world unknown,
Could seek for vain pleasures and heartlessly rove,
If they knew the true value of home.
Some sigh to be wealthy, some seek to be great,
Some envy what others can do,
But, oh ! I'm happy in my lowly estate,
For the hearts all around me are true.
And ties that are nearer and dearer to me,
And hearts that are truly mine own,
With fondest affection now binds me to thee,
My old house, my dear happy home.
38
Julianna Johnson.
Day has gone, and night has come,
And we niggers take our rest ;
Ob all de gals dat come dis way,
Juliana suits me best.
CHOKUS.
Den Juliana Johnson don't you cry,
Ise gwane away for to leabe you ;
Wait a little while I'll come byne-by,
Don't you let my parting griebe you.
Julianna she is berry tall,
She's slender 'bout dat waist,
She's got such a pair ob lubly lips,
How I long for dem to taste.
I took Julianna from her home,
And we trabled 'cross dem fields;
She got fast in a ditch and couldn't Gjet out.
For de largeness ob dem heels,
Juliana she is de royal blood,
To de great Victoria Anna ;
And I was her belubed lub,
'Case I play'd on dis piana.
De railroad it is mighty swift,
But de nigger's legs is swifter;
And I'll go down to ole Birginny,
And marry Pop Miller's sister.
Pop Miller's daughter sent me word*
And seal'd it in a letter ;
She said " my lub she'd neber be,"
And it broke my heart for eber.
39
My Brodder Gum.
••pled br permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway
owners of the copyright.
White folks I'll sing for you,
Nuffin else to do,
Spend my time a pickin1 on de banjo^
Hay ! Brodder Gum.
CHORUS.
My Brodder Gum,
My Brodder Gum so fair,
All de yaller gals runnin' round,
Try to get a lock ob his hair.
Hard work all de day,
Hab no time to play,
Berry fine time a diggin' in de corn-field,
Hay ! Brodder Gum.
Chorus.— 'My Brodder Gum, etc.
Tudder afternoon,
I thought I saw the moon,
Saw my true kib comin' through de cane-brake,
Hay ! Brodder Gum.
Chorus.— My Brodder Gum, eta
Went one berry fine day,
To ride in a one-horse sleigh,
Holloa'd to de old hoss comin' through d«
toll-gate,
Hay ! Brodder Gum.
Chorus— My Brodder Gum.
40
-■ — -* • - -*.
Massa's in de Cold Ground
Round de meadows am a ringing-,
De darkey's mournful song,
While de mocking-bird am singing,
Happy as de day am long.
Where de ivy am a creeping,
O'er de grassy mound,
Dar old massa am a sleeping,
Sleeping in de cold, cold ground,
chorus.
Down in de corn-field,
Hear dat mournful sound ;
All de darkeys am a weeping,
Massa's in de cold, cold ground.
When de autumn leaves were falling,
When de days were cold,
'Twas hard to hear old massa calling,
'Cayse he was so weak and old.
Now de orange tree am blooming,
On de sandy shore,
Now de summer days am coming,
Massa nebbcr calls no more.
Massa make de darkeys lub him,
'Cayse he was so kind,
Now dey sadly weep above him,
Mourning 'cayse he leave clem beliind
I can not work before to-morrow,
'Caj^sc de tear-drop flow,
I try to drive away my sorrow,
Pickin' on de old banjo.
41
ill
Massa sound is Sleeping^
The moon is shining bright and clear,
The flowers are buckling free ;
The coon is creeping to the corn,
And the waves dance on the sea.
CHORUS.
Then haste away, my dearest Nell,
For Massa sound is sleeping,
We'll run away and married be,
And leave the niggers weeping.
A cot within a dell we'll have,
Where flowers bright are bloomimg ;
And cotton blossoms strew the earth,
As if 'twere winter snowing.
Chorus. — Then haste, etc.
A bright and sunny spot we'll choosy
Where coons and possums play ;
And when our daily labor's done,
We'll sing and dance awTay.
Chorus.— Then haste, etc.
And while the niggers gayly dancq
The banjos play and ring ;
The niggers all shall merry be,
And gayly laugh and siug.
Chorus.— Then haste etc.
42
The Old Stage Coach.
-♦«*-
Though others boast of their railroad speed,
The rattling car and the whistle s scream,
And look with pride on the iron steed,
With fiery lungs and a breath of steam;
The jostling, crowding, rushing ahead,
And scolding, fretting, all in a rage,
I sigh again for visions fled,
Of turn-pike road and the old mail stage.
CHORUS.
Then, ho ! for the days of the turn pike road,
The prancing steeds, and the brisk approach,
The mellow horn, and the merry load,
That used to rido in the old stage-coach.
The old stage coach in its golden day
Roll'd proudly on with its cheerful load,
And claim'd from all the full right of way,
A monarch then of the turn-pike road.
But now the day of its pride is o'er,
It yields the palm to the railway train ;
The dear old friend so belov'd of yore,
We ne'er shall look on its like again.
The old stage coach as it came of old,
Each idler roused with its noisy din ;
With cracking whip, how it briskly roll'd
With conscious pride to the village inn.
But now it stands in the stable yard,
With dusty seats, and rusty tyre ;
We this friend of our youth discard,
For railway cars, and a steed of fire.
Though others boast of their railroad speed,
The rattling ears, and the whistle's screan^
And look with pride on the iron steed,
With lungs of fire, and a breath of steam ;
I sigh again for the golden day.
When up the green with its merry load,
fke old stage came as it held the sway,
A monarch proud of the turn-pike road.
No. 7
43
Take rue home to Die.
This land is very bright, mother, the flowers are very fair,
There's magic in the orange groves, and fragrance in the air;
But take me to my dear old home, where the braok goes bab
bling by,
Let ns go back again, mother ; oh ! take me home to die.
Let my father's hand but rest, mother, in blessing on my head,
Let my brothers, and my sister dear, but throng around my bed ;
Oh ! let me feel that loved ones near receive my parting breath.
When I bid you all good-night, mother, and sleep the sleep of
death.
fhese flowers their sweetest sweets afford, I scent their fragrant
breath,
But ere they bloom again, mother, I shall be cold in death ;
Then take me to my early home, no roses are so dear
As those that bloom upon the bush, to your old room so near.
It will be blooming, soon, mother, then come, oh, let me go!
Give me once more its roses before you lay me low;
You'll lay them on my grave, mother, say, mother, will you no-*?
You'll lay me by'the mossy bank, I've told you oft the spot.
'Tis close beside the church, mother, and when you kneel to
pray,
I'll listen to your words, mother, though I am far away;
You must not weep for me, mother, for I shall happy be,
And though I can not stay with you, yet you shall come to me.
Bear mother, I am weeping, I can not stop the tears,
They're swelling at the thought of home, and of my early years;
But I am getting faint, mother, oh ! take me to your breast,
And let me feel your lip, mother, but on my forehead press.
There's dimness on my sight, mother, I can not get my breath;
Is it your sobs I hear, mother ? Oh ! tell me, is tliis death ?
You'll tell my father how I yearn'd once more to see him near;
Tou'll kiss my brothers each for me, they will forget, 1 fear.
You'll tell my sister, brothers dear, I have gone up on high.
And Lf they are good children here, they'll see ni© when they dit
I feel I'm going now, mother, one ki*a ere life is riven ;
Farewell, my own dear mother, until we meet in heaven.
44
My Canoe is on the Ohio.
-**e^-
My canoe is on the Ohio,
Waiting love for thee,
There is no gal in all the land,
That's half so fair as thee ;
So come my love and go with me,
And together we will roam,
And I will take you long with me,
To see my happy home.
chorus.
Then haste my love,
And we will row,
In the light canoe,
On the Ohio.
Oh, come my love, now come with me,
Don't keep me waiting here ;
Just step into. my light canoe,
Oh, do, my Dinah dear;
"When first I did your face behold,
'Twas at your father's home,
You said you would then come with j». >
And together we would roam.
Farewell, my love, I must away,
Your mind is changed I see,
And all I'll ask before we part,
You'll never send for me.
Your fairy form has won this heart,
And no other one I mean,
ril take you now, if you will come,
Adown the silvery stream.
45
Ring de Banjo.
De time is nebber dreary if the darkey nebber groans;
De ladies nebber weary wid de rattle ob de bones ;
Den come again, Susanna, by de gas-light ob de moon ;
We'll tune de old piano when de banjo's out ob tune.
Ring, ring de banjo!
I like dat good old song,
Come again, my true lub,
Oh! wha you been so long?
Oh! nebber count de bubbles while dere's water in de
spring;
De darkey hab no troubles while he's got dis song to sing;
De beauties ob creation will nebber lose der charm,
While I roam de old plantation wid my true lub on my arm.
Ring, ring de banjo, &c.
Once I was so lucky my massa set me free,
I went to old Kentucky to see what I could see;
I could not go no farder, I turn to massa's door,
I lub him all de harder, Til go away no more.
Ring, ring de banjo, &c.
Early in de morning ob a lubly summer day,
My massa send me warning he'd like to hear me play ;
On de banjo tapping, I come wid dulcem strain,
Kassa fall a napping — he'll nebber wake again.
Ring, ring de banjo, &c.
My lub, I'll hab to leab you while de ribber's running hi«:b,
But I nebber can deceibe you, so don't you wipe your eye.
Va guine to make some money, but I'll come anodder day,
I'll come again, my honey, if I hab to work my way.
Ring, ring de banjo, &c.
4fl
Our Union, Right or Wrong
Rouse, hearts of freedom's only home!
Hark to disunion's cry,
Dear liberty, beneath her dome,
Proclaims that danger's nigh ;
Come, let your noble shouts ring forth,
la trumpet voices strong,
44 We know no South, we know no North,
Our Union, right or wrong."
The temple our brave fathers made,
The wonder of the world,
Shall they behold their sons dismay'd
"When treason's flag's unfurl'd;
Oh ! never, by the glorious stars
Which on our banner throng ;
Rouse, sons of three victorious wars,
For Union, right or wrong.
Our patriotic fathers' shades,
With Washington on high,
Point to their blood-anointed olades
And to their children cry,
Rouse, freemen by your fathers' scars,
On to the rescue throng;
Defend our flag and sacred stars,
The Union, right or wrong.
Sons of the press proclaim its worth,
In telegraphic fires,
Bid young America stand forth
And emulate their sires;
Wake sister States and hand in baad,
Round Freedom s temple throng,
Come shout in one united band,
Our Union, right or wrong.
It is Recorded.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., S47 Broadway
owners 6*f tho copyright.
It is recorded that this world
Is coming to an end.
But nothing is said about the date
On which" wc might depend:
Then up life's rugged path we'll climb,
And sound ourdarion notes.
So lonir as we have tin enough
To bur a peck of oat*.
The world is full of wonders now,
Of all sorts, shapes, and size.
But I saw one which made the scales
Fall from my sleepy ej
For so mysterious was the time,
Just twelve o'clock at night.
Rheumatic pains shot through my limb*,
As I beheld the sight.
I saw at least ten thousand men,
Without exaggeration.
All robed in white, like ghosts at night,
In my imagination.
Their faces all, by masks were hid,
Perhaps to hide their grief
For some departed brother.
As they march" d along the street.
They moved with measured step along
To music, common time.
Their standards swimming in the air,
On which were mystic >
With swords drawn out. and heads creat.
They seem'd in good condition
To rush with vigor on a foe.
In any expedition.
A knight, in gorgeous armor clad.
This ghostly army led.
The scroll of honor* in his hand,
And crown upon
He was surrounded bv his guards,
And knights of hi.j
On horses wild, akhonirh thev rode
With safety and wiih ease."
This wonder, now. I'm satisfied,
Was some mysterious
"So doubt, the ancient brotherhood,
Of late called " Sons of Malta."
Whose many deeds of charity
N Will surely be reward
But. like the world, this tale must e*a\
Few so it is recorded.
The Star of my Home,
I remember the days when my spirit would turn
From the fairest of scenes and the sweetest of songs ;
When the hearth of the stranger seem'd coldly to burn,
And the moments of pleasure for me were too long ;
For one name and one form shono in glory and light,
And lured back from all that might tempt me to roam ;
The festal was joyous, but was not so bright
As the smila of my mother, the star of my home.
I remember the days when the tear fill'd my eye,
And the heaving sob wildly disturbed my young breast;
But the hand of that loved one the lashes would dry,
And her soothing voice lull my chafed bosom to rest.
The sharpest of pains, and the sadest of woes,
The darkest and deepest of shadows might come,
Yet each wound had its balm, while my soul could repose
On the heart of a mother, the star of my home,
But now let me rove the wild world as I may,
There's no form to arise as a magnet for me ;
I can rest amid strangers, and laugh with the gay,
Content with the pathway where'er it may be.
Let sorrow or pain fling their gloomiest cloud,
There's no haven to shelter, no beacon to save ;
For the rays that ere led me are quenched by the shraud,
And the star of my home has gone down in the grave.
4D
Deal with, me Kindly.
Deal with me kindly, cheer my young heart,
I'll follow thee blindly wherever thou art ;
Deep in the mountain, far from my home,
HI follow thy path wherever thou'lt roan^
Thy way shall still be mine,
My heart shall still be thine.
Deal with me kindly,
Cheer my young heart,
I'll follow thee blindly
And never depart.
Break not my spirit, think of my youth,
Cherish my tender heart, doubt not my truth ;
Friends may desert thee, sorrows may come,
But still in this soul thine image will bloom.
Thy hopes with thee I'll share,
Thy wants shall be my care.
Deal with me kindly, kc.
Though through the desert wand'ring afar,
Still to me, dearest one, thou'lt be my star;
Sunlight or moonlight o'er us may shine,
Yet, living on love, Til ever be thine.
Thy hand shall be my guard,
Thy voice shall be my word.
Deal with me kindly, &«»
50
vl fT
Oh, don't yon remember the
Time?
Copied by permission of Fjrtfi, Pond & Co., 547 Broadway, owner*
of the copyright.
Oh, don't you remember the time
When you gathered the cowslips for me,
And I trembled to see you upclimb
To the nest in tire old apple-tree ?
Oh, don't you remember the time
"When we had a great festival day,
And you taught me your earliest rhyme,
And crowned me queen of the May ?
Yes, I feel that you can not forget,
From your lips I need ask no reply ;
For the light of old happiness yet
Beams out like a star from your eye.
Oh, don't you remember the time
When after an absence of years,
We met 'neath the shade of the lime,
And you whisper' d your hopes and your fears?
And don't you remember the time
When we sat by the river alone,
And we heard the bells distantly chime,
And you said — but that time has all gone.
And I see that you do not forget,
From your lips I need ask no reply,
For the light of old happiness yet
Shines out through the tear m your eye-
51
The Anchor's Weighed.
The tear fell gently from her eye,
When last we parted on the shore,
Mv bosom heaved with many a sigh,
To think I ne'er could see her more.
"Dear yfluth," she said, "and can thou haste away,
My heart will break, a little longer stay "
"Alas I can not, I must part from thee,
The anchor's weigh d — farewell ! remember me."
"Weep not, my love,'1 I trembling said,
"Doubt not a constant heart like mine;
I ne'er shall meet another maid
Whose charms can fix a heart like thine."
" Go, then," she cried, " but let thy constant mind
Oft think of her you leave in tears behind."
"Dear maid, this last embrace my pledge shall be,
The anchor's weigU'd — farewell ! remember me."
The Evening G-nn.
Rememberest thou that fading sun, the last I saw with thee,
When loud we heard the evening gun peal o'er the twilight
sea?
The sound appear'd to sweep far o'er the verge of day,
Till into realms beyond the deep they ieem'd to die away.
Oft when the toils of day arc done, in pensive dreams of
thee,
I sit to hear that evening gun peal o'er the stormy sea ;
And while o'er billows curl'd the distant sounds decay,,
I weep, and wish from this rough world like them to di*
away.
52
" Way down in Cairo."
Copied by permission of Fip.th, Pond & Co., 54T Broadtray,
owners of the copyright.
Oh ! ladies don't you blush
"When I come out to play;
I only mean to please you all,
And then Ts gwine away.
cnortrs.
I hear my true lub weep,
I hear my true lub sigh,
'Way down in Cairo
Dis niggas gwine to die.
Sometimes de nigga's life is sad,
Sometimes his life is gay ;
When de work don't come too hard,
He's singin' all de day.
Now we libs on de fat ob de land,
Now we lib3 on de lean ;
When we hab no cake to bake,
We sweep de kitchen clean.
Massa bought a bran new coat
And hung it on de wall ;
Dis nigga's gwine to take dat coat,
And wear it to de ball.
All <Je ladies in de land,
And all de gemmen too,
Am gwine to hear de darkey band,
And see what dey can do.
53
She's Blucl*:, l^xxt tlxat^s no
matter-.
Copied by permission of Firth. Pond & Co.. 547 Broadway,
o'xn:. .jilt.
My Dinah, dear mo, she's as beautiful quite,
As a star that shines calmly at close of the night,
A voice like a syren, a foot like a fay —
She's just such a gal you don't meet every day.
She's just such a gal you don't meet every day.
{Sjyoken.) But she's black.
c hoi; us.
I know she is, but what of that,
You'd love, could you look at her,
I'd have her just the way she is,
She's black, but that's no matter.
She lives on the banks of a bright flowing stream,
In a cabin that might have been built in a dream,
Surrounded by roses and woodbines and leaves,
That twine and climb lovingly up to the eaves,
That twine and climb lovingly up to the eaves.
E lie's so very black !
jl know she is, etc.
If ever I marry this dark color'd mnid,
You'll believe in the truth of what I have said;
I love her because her complexion will keep,
And they say that all beauty is only skin deep,
And they say that all beauty is only skin deep.
VSpoken.) But she's black !
rus.—I know she is, etc.
54
Roy Neill.
He sail'd away in a gallant bark,
Roy Neill and his fair young bride ;
He had ventured all in that bounding oak,
That danced o'er the silver tide.
But his heart was young, and his spirits light,
And a tear could not withstand
As lie watch' d the shores recede from sight,
Of his own dear native land.
Three days they sail'd, and a storm arose,
And the lightning swept the deep,
And the thunder crash broke the short repose
Of the weary seaboy's sleep.
Roy Neill he clasp'd his weeping bride,
And he kiss'd her drooping hand ;
" Oh, love ! 'twas a fatal hour," she cried,
" When we left our native land."
On the crowded deck of the doomed ship
Sbme stood in their mute despair,
And some more calm, with a holy lip,
Sought the God of the storm in prayer.
" She has struck on the rocks ! " the seamen cried.
As they view'd the distant strand ;
And the ship went down, and the fair young bride,
That sail'd from her native land.
55
Some Folks.
Coy Jed by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 541 Bro*4wr»y,
owners ot the copyright.
Some folks like to sigh,
Some folks do, some folks do;
Some folks long to die,
But that's not me nor you.
CHORUS.
Long live the merry, meny heart
That laughs by night and day;
Like the queen of mirth,
No matter what some folks say.
Some folks fear to smile,
Some folks do, some folks do ;
Others laugh through guile,
But that's not me nor you.
Some folks fret and scold,
Some folks do, some folks do ;
They'll soon be dead and cold,
But that's not me nor you.
Some folks get gray hairs,
Some folks do, some folks do ;
Brooding o'er their cares,
But that's not me nor you.
Some folks toil and save,
Some folks do, some folks do ;
To buy themselves a grave,
But that's not me nor you.
50
Revolutionary Times.
John Bull, don't you remember, now,
Some eighty years ago,
Wtusn we were very young, sir,
Your head was white as snow;
You did not count us much, John,
But thought to make us run,
Yet found out your mistake, John,
One day at Lexington.
CHORUS.
Ha, ha, ha, ha. hft, ha,
Indeed you did,
'Pon my soul you did,
One day at Lexington.
Then we invite you in, John
To take a cup of tea,
In Boston Harbor made, sir,
The teapot of the free.
You didn't like the party, boy,
It wasn't quite select,
There were some aborigines,
You didn't quite expect.
Indeed you did,
'Pon my soul you did,
Y"ou didn't quite expect.
Then another much-loved spot, John
Such sweet associations—
The day you marched down to York
To see your rich relations,
The Dutchmen of the Mohawk, sir,
Wishing to entertain,
Put up some Gates that stopped you,
On Saratoga plain.
Indeed you did,
'Pon my soul you did,
On Saratoga plain.
Oh! no, we never mention it,
You never thought it lucky,
The day you charged the cotton bajjft^
And got into Kentucky.
57
Why I thought you knew geography,
For mis«es in their teen?.
Would told you that Kentucky lay,
Why just below Orleans.
Indeed rou did,
'Pon my soul yot
Why just'below' Orleans.
Ton say we are great braggers, Joha,
But you know it is our wont,
We gave some Bra^g in Mexico,
Likewise in old Vermont.
At Bennington rou must confess,
That yon really felt quite sad,
The Green Mountain boys. I swow, did think
You were actually Stark mad.
Indeed yon
"Pen my son! yon did,
Yoa V ; .->tark mad,
The mistress of the ocean, John,
She could not rule the lakes.
You had some Ganders in your fleet,
But, John, you had no D'rak
Your choicest spirits, too. were there.
Why you took your hock and sherry,
But. John, you could not stand our fare,
You could not take our Perry.
Indeed you did,
'Pon my soul you did.
You could not take cur Perry.
You had some corns upon your toes,
Cornwall is me,
And at the siege of Yorktown,
'hen you could not run.
You tried quite hard, you must admit,
And threw away your gun ;
1 fie. John, for eham«,
To the immortal Washington.
1 yon did.
'Pon ray soul rou did,
To the immortal Washington.
58
Will you list to me, Nellie?
Will you list to me, Nellie ?
I've a secret to tell ;
I love a sweet lassie
Who lives in yon dell ;
I'll not breathe her name,
That would not be fair,
Till I know that she loves me,
And iny fortunes will sharo*
She's a winsome wee lassie,
A sweet lily fair,
With eyes so bewitcliiDg,
And bright golden hair ;
She sings like the lark
That warbles his lay,
As he soars to the sky
At the dawn of the day,
Now bend your car, Nellie,
While the secret I tell,
The name of the lassie
Who lives in the dell ,
For I see you are guessing
The lass I would woo,
Dou't turn away blushing,
Sweet Nellie, 'tis you.
59
Farewell, old Cottage.
Farewell, old cottage, you and I must part,
I leave your faithful shelter with a poor, breaking heart;
The stranger in his might, hath cast our lot in twain,
The term of our delight must close in parting pain.
Chords, — Farewell, old cottage, you and I must part,.
I leave your faithful shelter with a poor, breaking heart
Farewell, old cottage, memory still enthralls,
The loved ones of my childhood in your time-beaten walls
Here my brother play'd in pride of health and youth,
Here my sister play'd in purity and truth.
Farewell old cottage, oft times from afar
Yon window-light hath served me as a loved guiding star
And cheered a heart that long'd to join the household mirth
Where happy faces throng'd a hospitable hearth.
Queen Mary's Escape.
Put off, put off, and row with speed,
For now is the time, and the hour of need ;
To oars, to oars, and trim the bark,
Nor Scotland's Queen be a warder's mark ;
Yon light that plays round the castle's moat,
Is only the warder's random shot ;
Put off, put off, and row with speed,
For now is the time, and the hour of need.
Those pond'rous keys shall the kelpies keep,
And lodge in their caverns so dark and deep;
Nor shall Lochleven's tower or hall,
Hold thee our lovely lady in thrall;
Or be the haunts of traitors sold,
While Scotland has hands and hearts so bold ;
Then onward, steersman, row with speed,
For now is the time, and the hour of need.
nark, the alarum bell has rung,
The warder's voice lias treason sung,
The echoes to the falconet's roar,
Chime sweetly to the dashing shore.
Let tower, hall, and battlement gleam,
We steer by the li<rht of the taper's beam,
For Scotland and Mary, on with speed,
Now, now, is the time* and the hour of need.
CO
The Happy Switzer.
The snow-peaks are glowing
In morning s first ray,
The hardy Swiss hunter
Is up and away;
"With heart bold and fearless,
And rifle so true,
The light-bounding chamois
He joys to pursue.
Hark ! hark ! his wild bugle
With gladsome note rings,
As lightly from mountain
To mountain he springs.
Tra la la, &c.
Now homeward returning,
Spoil laden him see.
Oh, who is so happy,
So cheerful and free ?
There, fond smiles await hia^
There, fondly hell rest
From toil and from danger,
Contented and blest.
See ! see ! t'ward the chalet
lie speeds now along,
And the mountains re-echo
The Switzer's wild song.
Tra la la, «&c.
ct
I love niy Native Land,
I love my native land,
Its hills and mountains high,
Its rock-bound coast, its wave-wash' d strand,
And cliffs that meet the sky ;
Its vales in beauty spread,
Where rivers sweep along,
Where silent sleep the mighty dead,
Those names shall live, shall live in song.
I love my native land,
Land of the noble free,
Its blood, full many a patriot hand
Hath shed like rain for thee ;
Thy fertile soil was dyed,
When freedom's cause was won,
And heroes fought and fell beside
Their leader, their leader Washington
America, thy name
Shall ever cherish* d be,
Committed to undying fame,
Endear' d to all the free ;
White waves thy flag on high,
And floats on every breeze,
fhine eagle shall with England vie,
As mistress of the seas, the sea*.
C2
A Ride I once was Taking.
A ride I once was taking,
My loved one to see ;
She spied me t'ward her making,
And thus she spoke with glee :
"My heart's beloved, oh, see,
How fast he comes to me!"
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp pony,
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp hastily.
Yet faster still to meet her,
I gave my horse the spur,
Now from afar I greet her,
And ask without demur :
" My life, my peerless fair,
Why stand'st thou waiting there ?"
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp pony,
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp swift to ber.
From off my pony springing,
I bound him to a tree,
One arm around her flinging,
Oh, who so pleased as we !
A garden turn we took,
Sbe gave me one fond look.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp pony,
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp soft to me.
Beside my fair one seated,
We'd much to sing and say,
Why need it he repeated,
Each word that pass'd that day ?
Oh, sweet one, tell me why
The tear is in thine eye ?
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp pon*
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp awatf
"Under* the "Willow She*Lj
Sleeping-.
©•pied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., SIT Brotiwaj
owners of the copyright.
Under the willow she's laid with care —
Sang a lone mother while weeping,
Under the willow, with golden hair,
My little one's quietly sleeping.
CHORUS.
Fair, fair, and golden hair,
Sang a lone mother while weeping ;
Tair, fair, and golden hair,
Under the willow she's sleeping.
Under the willow no songs are heard,
Near where my darling lies dreaming ;
Naught but the voice of some far-off bird,
"Where life and its pleasures are beaming.
Chorus. — Fair, fair, etc.
Under the willow by night and day,
Sorrowing ever I ponder ;
Free from its shadowy, gloomy ray,
Ah \ never again can she wander*
Chorus. — Fair, fair, etc.
Under the willow I breathe a prayer,
Longing to linger forever
Kear to my angel with golden hair
lu lands where there's sorrowing new*
Chorus*— Fair, fair, etc
64
The Pilot.
** Oh, pilot, 'tis a fearful nighty -
There's danger on the deep ;
I'll come and pace the deck with the©,
I do not dare to sleep."
41 Go down !" the sailor cried, "go down !
This is no place for thee ;
Fear not, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou mayst be."
" Ah, pilot, dangers often met,
We all are apt to slight ;
And thou hast known these raging wares
But to subdue their might."
* It is not apathy," he cried,
That gives this strength to me;
Fear not,, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou mayst be.
"On such a night the sea engulf d
My father's lifeless form ;
My only brother's boat went down
In just so wild a storm.
And such, perhaps, may be my fate,
But still I say to thee,
Fear not, but trust in Providenos,
Wherever thou mayst be."
Song Book
No. 8.
A COLLECTION OF NEW AND POPTJLA*
COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL
SOlNTCSrS.
BEADLE A^D COMFAJSTY,
NEW YORK: 141 WILLIAM ST.
LONDON: 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.
PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
The music, with piano forte arrangement, of any of the
songs in Beadle's Dime Soxg Books, can be obtained of, or
ordered through, any regular News or Periodical dealer; or,
by forwarding twenty-five cents, direct to the publishers,
whose names and address are attached to many of the pieces,
the music will be sent by mail, post-paid.
Beadle and Company.
Entered accordini? to Act of Congress, in the year 18G3,
By BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk1? Office of the District Court of the United States,
for the Southern District of New York.
CONTENTS No. 8.
PAGE.
A life on the ocean wave, - - ' - - - 48
Annie of the vale, 5
A wet sheet and a flowing sea, - . - - - 50
Bonny Eloise, 36
Brightly o'er lake and shore, - - - - - 63
By the lone river side, 27
Come down by the silvery brook, love, - - -88
Come, maiden, with me, S
Down bv the river side, 13
Kila Leene, 19
Eilen Bayne, * - - - 24
Farewell* Lily, dear, 18
Farewell, sweet mother, - - , - - - - 35
Good-by, Linda, love, 26
Happy be thy dreams, - - - - - - 30
Hard times, come again no more, 57
Home and friends, 22
I'd be a gipsy, 31
I'd rather be* a violet, 32
I had a dream, 52
I'm going home to Dixie, 7
ling to marry yet, 40
I'm the queen of the village, 30
I in thinking of thee, Ellie, - 41
I see her still in my dreams, - . - - - 64
■ light-brown hair, 2'i
Jenny's coming o'er the green, .... ,>>
ret, - - 11
Kinlock of Kinlock, 28
Kitty, dear, 60
Kitty Wells, - - 9
to the mocking-bird,
Little Jenny Dow, - ;j?
dies to-night, 10
CONTENTS NO. 8.
PAGE.
Lost Rosabel, 51
Mary, avourneen, 44
Near the banks of that lone river, - - - in
Oh, if I had some one to love me, - - - 5G
Oh, take me back to Tennessee, - - - - 14
Oh, whistle and I'll come to yon, ... 49
Old black Joe, - 6
Old folks at home, 61
Ridin' in a railroad keer, - - - - 45
Rock me to sleep, mother, 47
Row, row, brothers, row, 40
Row, low your boat, 6
Scenes that are brightest, 63
She wept her life away, 17
Sighing for thee, 15
Silvery midnight moon, 29
Some one to love, 42
Tapping at the window, 39
The brave old oak, G2
The Campbells are coming 44
The dream is past, 55
The girls are not so green, 20
The light of other days, ------ 53
The lone starry hours, 70
The long, long, weary day, 59
The meeting of the waters, 36
The sea, the sea, the open sea, - - - - 54
The western trapper's camp-song, 12
The wild rose, 33
The Zingarina, 28
'Tis but a little faded flower, 25
Viva L7 America, 19
We'll meet in heaven, father, 34
What are the wild waves saying ? - - - 31
What fairy-like music ? 58
Why have my loved ones gone ? 43
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK No. 8.
. Annie of the Vale.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
W7 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright
The young stars are glowing,
Their clear light bestowing,
Their radiance fills the calm, clear summer night ;
Come forth like a fairy,
So blithesome and airy,
And ramble in their soft and mystic light.
cnoiius.
Come, come, come ! love, come !
Come, ere the night-torches pale ;
Oh ! come in thy beauty,
Thou marvel of duty,
Dear Annie, dear Annie of the Vale.
The world we inherit
Is charmed by thy spirit,
As radiant as the mild, warm summer ray ;
The watch-dog is snarling,
For fear, Annie, darling,
His beautiful young friend I'd steal away !
Chorus. — Come, come, come, etc
Old Black Joe.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
Gone are my friends from the cotton-fields away,
Gone from the earth to a better land I know —
1 hear their gentle voices calling " Old Black Joe."
CHORUS.
I'm coming, I'm coming:, for my head is bending low ;
I hear those gentle voices calling " Old Black Joe."
Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain ?
Why do I sigh that my friends come not again ?
Grieving for forms now departed long ago ?
I hear their gentle voices calling " Old Black Joe."
Where are the hearts once so happy and so free ?
The children so dear that I held upon my knee ?
(lone to the shore where my soul has longed to go—
I hear their gentle voices calling " Old Black Joe."
Eow, Eow Your Boat
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
WT Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Down by the river our log hut stands,
Where father and mother once dwelt,
And the old door-latch that was worn by our hands,
And the church where in prayer we knelt ;
Years, years have passed since that happy time,
But the river keeps rolling along,
And the rippling sound on the mossy bank,
Is singing the same old song.
Row, row^row, your boat, gently down the stream;
All that's past is gone, you know, the future's but a dream.
There stands the tree we used to climb,
And the mill with the rolling din,
And the old wharf-boat, there it used to float,
Where the school-boys used to swim.
High grass grows on the master's grave,
And the fiver keeps rolling along,
And the birds and the bees, the blossoms, the trees,
Are sinking the same old song.
I'm Going Home to Dixie.
Copied by permission of Ftbth, Po?td & Co., Music Publishers,
M7 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
There is a land where cotton grows,
A land where milk and honey flows,
Tm going home to Dixie — yes, I am going home.
CHORUS.
Tve got no time to tarry,
Tve got no time to stay,
Tis a rocky road to travel,
To Dixie, far away.
I will climb up the highest hill,
And sing your praise with right good will,
I'm going home to Dixie — yes, I am going home.
I've wandered far, both to and fro,
But Dixie's heaven here below,
I'm going home to Dixie — yes, I am going home.
Oh, list to what I've got to say,
Freedom to me will never pay !
I'm going home to Dixie— yes, I am going home.
A. shadow and a phantom frail,
The mighty truth — it must prevail,
Vm going home to Dixie — yes, I am going home.
*n Dixie land the fields do bloom,
And colored men have welcome room,
I'm going home to Dixie— yes, I am going home.
I will proclaim it loud and long,
I love old Dixie, right or wrong,
I'm going home to Dixie — yes, I am going home.
Come, Maiden, with Me.
Come, maiden, with me, o'er the silvery sea,
My bark is impatiently waiting for thee ;
The bright stars are smiling to see thee appear,
And the light waves are dancing to welcome thee
here.
Cool zephyrs are wooing thy ringlets to come,
And wanton with them on our own ocean-home ;
Where the sea-birds shall wake thee when danger is
near,
And their gambols shall teach thee to laugh at thy
fear.
CHORUS.
Ah, come, maiden, with me, o^er the silvery sea,
My bark is impatiently waiting for thee ;
The bright stars are smiling to see thee appear,
And the light waves are dancing to welcome thee
here.
And when o'er the waves we are bounding along,
Ere the land disappears, thou shalt warble a song
Of farewell to the scenes we leave joyless behind,
Whose sort notes shall swell on the wings of the
wind ;
And its burden shall be, as it floats on the breeze, -
Of beauty and iove, and a life on the seas ;
Then hasten, dear maid, o'er the star-lighted sea,
My proud bark shall bear thee to freedom with me.
CHORUS,
Ah, come, maiden, with me, o'er the silvery sea,
My bark is impatiently waiting for thee ;
The bright stars are smiling to see thee appear,
And the light waves are dancing to welcome thee
here.
1
Kitty Wek
Copied by permission of S. T. Gordon., Misic Publisher,
706 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyiSght.
You ask what makes this darkie wee%
"Why he like others am not gay ; \
What makes the tear flow down his cliNek,
From early morn till close of day.
My story, darkies, you shall hear, \
For in my memory fresh it dwells ;
'Twill cause you all to drop a tear
On the grave of my sweet Kitty Wells
CHORUS.
While the birds were singing in the morninfe,
And the myrtle and the ivy were in bloom,
And the sun on the hill was a dawning,
It was then we laid her in the tomb.
I never shall forget the day,
That we together roamed the dells ;
I kissed her cheek and named the day
That I should marry Kitty Wells.
But death came in my cabin door,
And took from me my joy and pride,
And when I found she was no more,
Then I laid my banjo down and cried.
I often wish that I was dead,
And laid beside her in the tomb ;
The sorrow that bows down my head,
Is silent in the mid-night gloom.
The spring-time has no charms for me,
Though flowers are blooming in the dells,
For that bright form I do not see,
Tis the form of my sweet Kitty Wells.
10
Lizzk Dies To-Mght.
Copied by p'ruafasion of Horace "Waters, Music Publisher,
481^oadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
'X^as hard, our parting, mother, dear,
It gave you untold pain,
3ut hope was strong within our hearts,
That we should meet again ;
There's health upon my cheek once more,
And in my eye new light —
'Twill all be quench' d in ocean's gloom,
For Lizzie dies to-night ;
Lizzie dies to-night, mother,
Lizzie dies to-night.
I've been so happy, mother, dear,
When brightest summer smiled ;
The friends who love me far away,
Have guarded well your child ;
They've brought me almost back again,
To you and home's delight —
But I wrill never see you more,
For Lizzie dies to-night.
I'm thinking, mother, of the time
When little Willie died ;
We laid him down with bursting hearts,
My father's tomb beside ;
'Twas then you feared my tender form
Would vanish from the light —
But, ah ! my grave is 'neath the wave,
For Lizzie dies to-night.
I know you're dreaming, mother, dear,
Of all these dangers past ;
Perhaps you'll never know how hard
Death came to me at last ;
I'm almost in your arms again,
God make your burden light —
I never more can cheer your heart,
For Lizzie dies to night.
Katie's Sec^t.
Copied bv permission of Hokace Watek Mi«ic Puhli«h*»r
4S1 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the c^y^t.
The sunlight is beautiful, mother, \
And sweetly the flowers bloom to-daj
And birds in the branches of hawthorn,
Are caroling ever so gay ; \
And down by the rock m the meadow,
The rill ripples by with a song;
And, mother, I too have been singing,
The merriest all the day long. \
Last night I was weeping, dear mother,
Last night I was weeping alone ;
The world was so dark and so dreary, \
My heart it grew heavy as stone ; l\
I thought of the lonely and loveless,
All lonely and loveless was I;
I scarcely could tell why it was, mother,
But, oh, I was wishing to die.
Last night I was weeping, dear mother,
But Willie came down by the gate,
And whispered: u Come out in the moonlight,
I've something to say to you, Kate.''
Oh, mother, to him I am dearer
Than all in the wide world beside;
He told me so out in the moonlight,
And called me his darling, his'bride.
So now I will gather my r
And twine in my lorn:, braided hair;
Then Willie will come in the evening,
And smile whe me 80 fair ;
And out in the moonlight we'll wander,
Way down by the old hawthorn tree —
Oh, mother, I wonder if any
Were ever so happy
f
The Westerr -Trapper's damp Song.
Copied by perurssio- °{xfirth, PoND & Co., Music Publishers,
647 BrJad'ay> N- Y-» owners of the copyright.
Come awa- -f come away ! t0 tlie bright, blooming
y3St,
Wher the hand of the hunter is free !
With t*3 sky f°r our ro°f> on the prairie we'll rest,
Co»e away ! o'er the broad open lea !
Thrr-lgh the dark wood we'll range to the river's
green rim,
And our snares all so slyly we'll set,
tnd we'll watch, o'er the water, the brown otter skim,
Or the beaver all shining as jet !
There the moonbeams are mild,
There the forests are wild,
Come away, boys ! away, come away !
Where the perfume of flowers
Bedecks nature's bowers,
And the sunshine is gladsome and gay !
When morning's gray beams drive our wary game
back,
Still so cheerily forth we will go !
And the rifle shall ring on the bounding doe's track,
Midst our wide-sounding, shrill tally-ho !
And our fleet-footed steed will hasten his speed,
As we follow the trail of the roe,
Nor falter his pace, while yet there is need,
As we still shout the blithe tally-ho *
And we'll sing, brothers, sing!
We're abroad on the wing !
And our hearts are as blithesome as May •,
We are free, boys ! as free
As the wide, open sea *
Come away ! to the West ! come away
13
Down by the River Side.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co.. Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, Bf. Y., owners of the copyright.
Full many years have past and gone,
How quickly did they glide,
Since you and I, at early dawn,
Met by the river side ;
'Twas there our love we fondly vow'd,
'Twas there when first my bride,
We silent hid us from the crowd,
Down by the river side.
In simxx~o~v nvp we'ye Tvander'd oft,
Our children by the hand,
And deck'd with flowers x\^-r ringlets soft
Or watch' d them on the strand°;
Our children now are far a^ay,
Some in the churchyard hiC/>,
Yet you and I are left to stray,
Down by the river side.
The hand of time hafli oe'r our brow
Sprinkled its chilling snow,
Our steps are weak, we totter now,
The bright waves onward flow ;
But as we gaze upon the stream,
I love thee still with pride,
As dear in age as youthful dream
Down by the river side.
14
Oh take me back to Tennessee.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Oh, take me back to Tennessee,
To my dear home once more ;
Where the river runs so merrily,
Down by the cabin door.
And when I see those fields again,
How happy I shall be,
To hear the darkies' welcome song,
Dear land of Tennessee.
CHORUS.
Oh ! I can never here remain,
There is no joy for me ;
This land I'll leave, nnri «~fc ^aia
I'll go to Tennessee.
Poor iselly, she will cry with J03-,
And ca^ me by my name !
She lov^d me when a little boy,
An^ loves me still the same.
The birds will sing their merry songs,
I think I hear them still ;
The robin and the jay are there,
And the lonejy whippowil. — (Chorus.)
There is no joyous music now,
To glad my listening ear ;
The banjo's happy tone is mute,
No dear old songs I hear.
Oh ! I will never here remain,
No pleasure now I see ;
Farewell ! I must go back again
To dear old Tennessee.— (Chorus,)
15
Sighing For Thee.
Copied bv permission of Fitctit, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
Broadway N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Lonely I lie 'neath the sad drooping willow,
Listening to zephyrs gladsome and free ;
Gazing afar on the wild tossing billow,
Sighing for thee, sighing for thee.
Starlight is streaming o'er forest and mountain,
Echoes are lost in the silence of eve,
Sweet fairies trip it by streamlet and fountain,
Love's tendrils weave— Love's tendril's weave.
CHORUS.
Ah ! lonely I lio Wath the sad drooping willow,
Listening to zephyrs gladsome and free ;
Gazing afar oe'r the wild tossing billow,
Sighing for thee, sighing for thee.
Lovely wert thou as a. seraph in mortal,
Fleeting thy course as a meteor bright ;
Angels awaited thee over death's portal
Beaming with light, beaming with light,
Life hath no charms for the sad and forsaken
Fondly I turn, yes, I turn to thy home ;
Hearts that love truly though sundered shall waken
Never to roam — never to roam.
CHORUS.
Ah ! lonely I lie 'neath the sad drooping willow,
List'ning to zephyrs gladsome and free;
Gazing afar o'er the wild tossing billow,
Sighing for thee, sighing for thee;
16
Near the Banks of that Lone River.
Copied by permission of Bla.ckmar & Company, Music Pub-
lishers, New Orleans, .. owners of the copyright.
Near the banks of that lone river,
Where the water lilies grow,
Breathed the fairest flower that ever
Bloomed and faded, years ago ;
How we met and loved and parted,
None on earth can ever know,
Nor how poor and gentle-hearted,
Beamed the mourned one, years ago.
Near the banks of that lono livei,
AY here the water lilies grow,
Breathed tne fairest flower that ever
Bloomed and faded, long ago.
Like the stream with lilies laden,
Will life's future current flow,
Till in heaven I meet the maiden,
Fondly cherished, years ago ;
Hearts that love like mine forget not,
They're the same in weal or woe,
And that star of memory set not,
In the grave of years ago.
CHORUS.
Near the banks of that lone river,
Where the water lilies grow,
Breathed the faVest flower that ever
Bloomed and faded, long ago.
17
She Wept her Life Away.
Copied by permission of H. B. Dodsworth, Music Publisher,
6 Astor Place, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
We loved her as our own, poor child,
As through the weary years
"We nursed her life with constant care,
And kissed her silent tears ;
She strove to seem contented while
"We cheered her through the day,
But when alone at night, poor child,
She wept her life away.
CHORUS.
She wept her life away,
She wept her life away,
But when alone at night, poor child,
She wept her life awa}r.
She died when summer came, poor child,
The child we could not save,
And hardly mourning that she slept,
We laid her in the grave ;
She never could forget the day
Her sainted mother died,
They could not live apart, poor child,
They slumber side by side.
CHORUS.
She wept her life away,
She wTept her life away,
But when alone at night, poor child,
She wept her life away.
18
Farewell, Lilly Dear.
Lilly dear, it grieves me,
The tale I have to tell;
Old massa sends me roaming,
So, Lilly, fare you well !
Oh, fare you well, my true love,
Farewell, old Tennessee;
Then let me weep for you, love,
But do not weep for me.
CHORUS.
Farewell forever to old Tennessee,
Farewell forever to old Tennessee ;
Farewell, my Lilly dear, don't weep for me,
Farewell, my Lilly dear, don't weep for me.
I's gwine to roam the wide world
In lands I've never hoed,
With nothing but my banjo
To cheer me on the road ;
"For when Fin sad and weary,
I'll make the banjo play,
To mind me of my true love,
When I am far away. (Chorus.)
I wake up in the morning*
And walk out on the farm ;
Oh, Lilly am a darling —
She take me by the arm ;
We wander through the clover
Down by the river side,
I tell her that I love her.
And she must be my bride. (Chorus.)
Oh, Lilly dear, 'tis mournful
To leave you here alone,
You'll smile before I leave you,
And weep when I am gone;
The sun can never shine, love,
So bright for you and me,
As when I worked beside you,
In good old Tennessee. (Chorus.)
19
Viva L' America.
Copied bv permission of Firth, Pond & Co.. Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Noble Republic! happiest of lands.
Foremost of nations. Columbia stands:
Freedom's proud banner floats in the skies,
Where shouts of liberty daily a i^e;
'•United we stand, divided we fall,"
Union forever, freedom to all.
vosvs.— Throughout the world our motto shall be,
Viva L' America, home of the free.
Should ever traitor rise in the land,
Cursed be his homestead, withered his hand;
Shame be his memory, scorn be his lot,
Exile his heritage, his name a blot !
'•United we stand, divided we fall,11
Granting a home and freedom to all.
To all her heroes, justice and fame,
To all her foes, a traitor's foul name;
Our " Stripes and Stars " still proudly shall ware,
Emblem of liberty, flag of the brave ;
'•United we stand, divided we fall,"
Gladly we'll die at our country's calL
Ella Leene.
Copied by permission of Firth. Pond & Co.. Music Publishers,
547" Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
She was fair rite the beams of morning,
As sweet and as fragile as the rose ;
And she whispered : "By-and-by plant sweet flowers
O'er the grave where Ella takes repose ;
When I Bleep in the dark, gloomy shadows
That hide in the silence of the tomb,
As oft you wander where I'm resting,
Y"ou will find hope is written in their bloom."
CHORUS.
When the sweet wind was sighing gently,
Sighing through the pine boughs so fragraat and green,
There we gathered, in tears, by the bedside
Of our darling, our darling Ella Leene.
Her voice, that was sweeter than the mni
Of the summer that siiiL-s in plaintive strain,
Is hushed in our household for
Here we never more shall hear again;
She is cone lik<-> the bldsaoms of the morning,
Which the ni-jht-wind has shaken to the ground;
But she blooms where the fragrance of the flowers
Ever shed - rs around.
20
The G-irls are not so Green.
Copied by permission of Horace "Waters, Music Publisher,
4S1 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
One little word I've tried to speak,
Yet never could for choking,
Although I've practiced half the week,
Oh, dear, 'tis so provoking !
I'm very sure she understands,
The word I long to utter,
' For she has felt my trembling hand,
And seen my bosom flutter.
CHORUS.
Oh no, the girls are not so green,
Your suit you're sure to gain it,
But you must tell them what you mean,
And many times explain it.
I've often vowed to spoil their fun,
They so delight in teasing,
But never wedding any one,
However sweet and pleasing-.
They will not understand, altho^h
You hint so very near it,
And when you plainly tell them so.
They wish again to tell you.— (Chorub.)
But I will go and try my luck,
And boldly pop the question,
For sure the word so long has stuck,
It ruins my digestion ;
And if she does not comprehend,
Again my suit I'll press, sir ;
She'll understand me in the end,
And blushing say, oh, yes, sir ! — (Chorus.)
21
The Lone Starry Hours.
Oh, the lone starry hours give me, love,
When still is the beautiful night ;
When the round, laughing moon I see, love,
Peep through the clouds, silver white ;
When no winds through the low woods sweep, love,
And I gaze on some bright rising star ;
When the world is in dream and sleep, love.
Oh, wake, while I touch my guitar.
CHORUS.
When no winds through the low woods sweep, love,
And I gaze on some bright rising star ;
When the world is in dream and sleep, love,
Oh, wake, while I touch my guitar.
Till the red rosy morn grows bright, love,
Far away o'er the distant sea,
Till the stars cease their gentle light, love,
Will I wait for a welcome from thee ;
And oh, if that pleasure is mine, love,
We will wander together afar ;
My heart shall be thine, thine, my love,
Then wake, while I touch my guitar.
CHORUS.
And oh, if that pleasure is mine, love,
We will wander together afar ;
My heart shall be thine, thine, my love,
Then wake, while I touch my guitar.
2a
Home and Friends.
Ccpied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
64i Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
When the sun goes down, and the blue from out the
sky,
As the day with its twilight ends,
How I sigh for thee as I'm sitting all alone,
When I think- of my home and my friends ;
For still do I dream of the many, many days
That came like a charm to me then,
And my heart would break if I thought thou could st
forget,
Should I live to behold thee again.
When the sun goes down, in the silence of the night,
Oh, my heart how it sighs for home !
Yet still I would stay in my solitude away,
If a change o'er thy spirit should come.
For all that I prize is thy merry, merry laugh,
And my fate on thy friendship depends,
For my heart would break if my hand thou wouldst
forsake,
Should I greet thee at home with my friends.
Though the day be bright and as cheerful as of old,
I rejoice not to share its light ;
For niy heart is sad in its loneliness away,
Be it day or the solitude of night.
But oh, it is sweet, with a sorrow in my heart,
To pause as the stars descend,
And to think of thee in a region far away,
As the pride of my heart, and a friend.
23
Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair.
Copied by pormi??4on of Firth, Pond & Co., JMusic Publishers,
547 Broadway N. Y., owners of the copyright.
I dream of Jeanie with the light-brown hair,
Borne on a vapor on the summer air ;
I see her tripping where the bright streams play,
Happy as the daisies that dance on her way.
Many were the wild notes her merry voice would
pour;
Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o'er ;
Oh, I dream of Jeanie with the light-brown hair,
Floating like a vapor on the soft summer air.
I long for Jeanie with the gay dawn's smile.
Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile ;
I hear her melodies, like joys gone by,
Sighing round my heart o'er the fond hopes that die ; —
Sighing like the night-wind, and sobbing like the
rain —
Wailing for the lost one that comes not again :
Oh, I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low,
Never more to find her where the bright waters flow.
I sign for Jeanie, but her light form strayed
Far from the fond hearts round her native glade ;
Her smiles have vanished, and her sweet songs flown,
Flitting like the dreams that have cheered us and gone.
Now the nodding wild flowers may wither on the shore
While her gentle fingers will cull them no more ;
Oh, I sigh for Jeanie with the light-brown hair,
Floating like a vapor on the soft summer air.
24
Ellen Bayne.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Soft be thy slumbers,
Rude cares depart,
Visions iu numbers
Cheer thy young heart;
Dream on while bright hours
And fond hopes remain,
Blooming like smiling bow'rs,
For thee, Ellen Bayne.
CHORUS.
Gentle slumbers o'er thee glide,
Dreams of beauty 'round thee bide,
While I linger by thy side,
Sweet Ellen Bayne.
Dream not in anguish,
Dream not in fear,
Love shall not languish,
Fond ones are near ;
Sleeping or waking,
In pleasure or pain,
Loving hearts shall beat for thee,
Sweet Ellen Bayne.— (Chorus.)
Scenes that have vanished,
Smile on thee now,
Pleasures once banished,
Play 'round thy brow ;
Forms long departed,
Greet thee again,
Soothing thy dreaming heart,
Sweet Ellen Bayne.-— (Chorus.)
25
Tis but a Little Faded Flower,
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Tis but a little faded flower,
But oh, how fondly dear ;
'Twill bring me back one golden hour,
Through many a weary year ;
I may not to the world impart
The secret of its power,
But treasured in my inmost heart,
I keep my faded flower.
CHORUS.
Tis but a little laded flower,
But oh, how fondly dear ;
Twill bring me back one golden hour,
Through many a weary year.
Where is the heart that doth not keep,
"Within its inmost core,
Some fond remembrance, hidden deep,
Of days that are no more ? m
Who hath not saved some trifling thing,
More prized than jewels rare ?
A faded flower, a broken ring,
A tress of golden hair ?
CHORUS.
Tis but a little faded flower,
But oh, how fondly dear;
Twill bring me back one golden hoar,
Through many a weary year.
26
G-ood-By, Linda Love.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond <§j Co., Music Publisher*,
&47 Broadway, N. Y., owners oi the copyright.
'Twas down in Alabama State,
Our little hut alone did stand ;
A wife, and little darkies eight,
Composed our happy, happy band.
"We neber can forget, my lub, .
De happy hour when fust we met,
Your voice was softer dan de dove,
Your lips was sweeter, sweeter yet.
CHORUS.
Good-by, good-by, Linda lub !
Oh ! Linda, fare you well ;
My massa say Ise getting old,
Dis darkey he must sell.
I 'member well dat happy morn,
When Linda say 'twas me she lub ;
Dis darkey shellin' rnassa's corn,
And she a washing at de tub !
I tink wid joy upon de day,
When *her and I was both made one ;
I feel like 'coon in summer day,
A sleeping dare, in de warm sun. — (Chorus.)
We've watch'd de little gals and boys,
A running o'er de fields so green,
A happier day of sweeter joys,
Dis poor old darkey neber seen.
A long farewell, my Linda dear,
Our happiness am now all o'er !
Come, Linda lub, den dry your tear ;
You'll neber, neber see me more. — (Chorus.)
27
By the Lone River Side.
By the lone river side, at the merry eventide,
Sweet Lilly and I used to stray ;
With a form of artless grace, and a happy, smiling
face,
She shed o'er each heart a happy ray.
Oh ! when I remember those happy, happy days,
And I think of my companions in each dell,
I bow my head in sorrow and regret the coming
morrow,
For it brings not mjr pretty Lilly Belle.
CHORUS.
I bow my head in sorrow and regret the coming
morrow,
For it brings not my pretty Lilly Belle.
Down where the cypress grows, where the river
gently flows,
They've laid my love so pure and fair,
But high up in the skies from all earthly woes and
ties,
Dwells the spirit of my darling, free from care.
But, ah ! when recollections of this dear one fill my
brain,
The death-blow of my fond hopes and my knell,
I to her grave repair, and in anguish drop a tear,
A tear on the grave of Lilly Belle.
CHORUS.
I bow my head in sorrow and regret the coming
morrow,
For it brings not my pretty Lilly Belle.
28
Kinlock of Kinlock,
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet runs clear through the vale,
The primroses blow in the dew of the morning,
And wild, scattered cowslips bedeck the green dale.
But what can give pleasure ? or what can seem fair ?
When lingering the moments are numbered by care,
No birds sweetly singing nor flowers gaily springing,
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair.
The deed that I dared, could it merit their malice,
A king and a father to place on his throne ?
His right are these hills, and his right are these valleys,
Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none.
But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn,
My brave, gallant friends! 'tis your ruin I mourn;
Your faith proved so true in hot, bloody trial —
Alas ! I can make it no better return.
The Zingarina.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Far from our mountains, roving away,
Cheer me, oh, cheer me, with some old lay ;
In the shade resting, sweet Zingarina,
Oh ! let soft music gladden the scene.
Sing me the song so dear in our childhood,
While I beat time with my gay tambourine,
Though doomed to wander over the world wide,
I will not sorrow when by thy side.
Like a bird warbling, sweet Zingarina,
Thy lay hath cheered me through every seen© ;
Oh, sing the song so dear in our childhood,
While I beat time with my gay tambourine.
29
Silvery Midnight Moon.
Silver}- midnight moon,
Mother of all the bright stars,
Follower of the day's sun,
Shine on, love watches afar.
Tenderly sleep on the bank,
Lovingly watch o'er the sea,
Playfully cut up your pranks,
Guard o'er my dearest and me.
CHORUS.
Silver}' midnight moon,
Mother of all the bright stare,
Follower of the day's sun,
Shine on, love watches afar.
Silvery thronelight moon,
Nobler than e'en the bright sun,
Cosily watching night's noon,
More light, thou say'st, I come,
Foldingly clasped round the flowert,
Stealingly list to love's glee,
Timefnlly counting life's hours,
Smile on my dearest and me.
Cnortus. — Silvery midnight, eU.
Silvery gliding moon,
Nestled 'mongst diamonds bright,
Smilingly ride on thy throne,
Cerulean queen of the night.
Soothingly sleep on the mound,
Cheerfully sparkle the sea,
Joyfully music resounds,
Lov are looking at thee.
Silvery midnight, etc.
30
I'm the Queen of the Village.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., 'Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
I'm the Queen of the village, they say,
And the star of each scene that is bright ;
I've a smile that allures every heart,
And an eye that is beaming with light.
I am proud of my sway if '(is true,
But it is not o'er all I would reign :
There is only one heart I can prize,
And whose homage I'd seek to retain.
I'm the Queen of the village, they say,
With a step that is light as a fawn ;
I've a form that the Sylphid might grace,
And a glance that is soft as the dawn.
I am proud of the gifts, if 'tis true,
For the sake of the one I hold dear,
For 'tis only when whispered by him,
That it falls with delight on my ear.
Happy be thy Dreams.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Sox, Music Publishers,
543 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Oh ! happy, happy, happy, be thy dreams,
Bright be the vision that before thee lies !
Dream of the radiant hills and sunlit streams —
Dream of the bright and blue unclouded skies !
Sleep, for thy mother watches by thy side,
O'er thee, unseen, the watchful spirits glide,
Pure as the star that o'er thee mildly beams;
Oh ! happy, happy, happy be thy dreams !
Oh ! happy, happy be thy path in life,
Long still thy mother's tender love to share,
'Till heaven has called thee from this vale of strife.
And pure bliss succeeds to worldly care ;
Then if the angels earthward turn their eyes,
She will watch o'er thee from the radiant skies.
Sleep while yon star still o'er thee mildly beams ;
Oh ! happy, happy, happy be thy dreams !
31
What are the Wild Waves Saying ?
Paul. What are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long ?
That ever, amid our playing,
I hear but their low, lone song;
Not by the sea-side only-
There it sounds loud and free —
But at night, when 'tis dark and lonely,
In dreams it is still with me.
Brother, I hear no singing!
'Tis but the roiling wav.
Ever its lone course winging
Over some ocean cace ;
'Tis but the noise of water
Dashing against the shore,
And the wind from some bleaker quarter,
Mingling with its roar.
Both. No, no ! it is something greater,
That speaks to the heart alone ;
The voice of the great Creator
Dwells in that mighty tone !
Flounce.
I'd be a Gipsey.
I'd be a gipsey, merry and free,
Roaming abroad like a bird or a bee,
Naught to control me, sportive and wild.
All through the summer days free as a child. (Repbat.,
What are the bright halls %t splendor and pleasure?
What are the saloons of the brilliant and gay?
These can not render the life giving treasure
That freedom and health to the rover convey.
Chorus.— I'd be a gipsey merry and free,
Roaming abroad like a bird or a bee,
Naught to control me, sportive and wild,
All through the summer days free as a child.
I'd be a gipsey 'neath the clear blue sky,
Tinged by the stars that shine brightly on high,
The turf "for my pillow al! the night long,
And lulled to repose by i'\c nightingale^ song. (Repeat.)
Roaming all day wh re the merry hand wanders,
Telling the tales of the brave and the fair,
Scornmir the world and the wealth that it squanders,
With just coin enough to he I'vm as the air.
32
I'd Rather be a Violet.
Copied by permission of Firth Pond, & Co. Music Publishers,
647 Broadway, N. Y., owners oi the copyright.
I'd rather be a violet,
Born in the month of May,
Warmed by the gentle .sunbeams,
When every thing is gay ;
To bear upon my bosom
The pearly drop of dew,
When falls the morning sunshine
Through heaven's cloudless blue.
I'd rather be a violet,
Born in the month of May,
Warmed by the gentle sunbeams
When every thing is gay ;
I love the modest daisy,
That looks up at my feet,
But still the little violet
To me is far more sweet.
A gem of rarest beauty,
That smiles in darkest hour;
Oh, I'd rather be a violet,
If I might be a flower,
I'd rather be a violet,
Born in the month of May,
Warmed by the gentle sunbeams,
Whee every thing is gay.
33
The Wild Rose.
Copied by permission of Fnvrn, Poxd & Co., Music Publishers,
M7 Broadway, X. Y., owners of the copyright.*
Let others boast of flowers rare —
I love the wild rose best,
Her buds have nestled in thy hair,
And trembled on thy breast ;
'Mid blossoms gay, whose anthers fling
Their spray in golden streaks,
My wild rose wears her wedding ring
While blushes dye her cheeks !
cnonus.
Let others boast of flowers rare,
I love my wild rose best,
Long may her blossoms deck thy hair
And tremble on thy breast.
My sweet red rose, long may you reign,
Far from the crowded town ;
Fair mistress of thy wild domain,
Queen of the damask crown 1
Bright youth must fade, and roses die,
As onward roll the years —
But mem'ry fond, will linger by
Love's blushing souvenirs !
CHORUS.
Let others boast of flowers rare,
I love my wild rose best —
Long may her blossoms deck thy hair,
And tremble on thy breast.
No. 8 2
34
We'll meet in Heaven, Father.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
When sanset, from the golden west,
Smiled forth its parting ray,
Impatient beat a little heart,
To leave its prison clay.
A father bent above his child,
Tears fell like summer rain,
His heart with grief was throbbing wild,
But ah ! 'twas all in vain ;
For death had marked that little one,
And with his arrow bright,
Had loosed him from his bands of clay,
And winged him for the flight.
The father's heart was well-nigh broke,
To see his darling boy
Lie moaning on a bed of pain,
He was hi3 only joy.
For other little feet, that came
To meet him at the door,
Were sleeping where the summer flowers,
The greensward dotted o'er ;
And now this idol of his heart
Was passing from his sight,
And sad and gloomy was the day,
Without one gleam of light.
But softly spoke the dying boy,
A smile was on his cheek ;
" Good-by, dear father, weep no more,
But listen while I speak:
Mamma has come for me to-night,
I must no longer stay;
She holds for me a shining crown,
And beckons me away —
Earth's hours are swif:!y-pa?smg hours,
Grief comes like summer rain,
And soon, in heaven's unfading bowers,
We all shall meet again."
35
The father felt the soft reproof,
And stayed the falling tears ;
That one sweet thought is with him now,
In all his fleeting years,
It cheers his lonely path of life,
It brightens every gloom,
The loved ones wait upon the shore,
To give him welcome home; -
He looks afar across the tide,
To that sweet promise given,
Of happy meetings, ne'er to part,
Reunions sweet, in heaven.
Farewell, Sweet Mother,
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, X. Y., owners of the copyright
Farewell, sweet mother,
Weep not, weep not now for me,
Though my soul must wander hither,
Weep not mother now for me ;
Soon, with an angel-band,
I will wander, hand in hand
To a fair and radiant land,
"Where I will wait for thee.
Farewell, sweet mother,
Weep not, weep not now for me,
Though my soul must wander hither,
Weep not, mother, now lor me.
Farewell, sweet mother,
Every night I've dreamed of thee,
And thy voice was soft and gentle,
Saying pleasant things to me;
While you these vigils keep,
Now I lay me down to sleep.
Mother, tell me why you weep,
Oh ! weep not now for me.
Farewell, sweet mother,
Weep not, weep not now for me,
Though my soul must wander hither,
Weep not, mother, now for me.
— — _ _JI
86
The Meeting of the Waters.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright
There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ;
Oh, the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of cry stal ; and brightest of green,
'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill —
Oh ! no — it was something more exquisite still.
'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom were near,
Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear,
And who felt how the blest charms of nature improve,
When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms which we feel in this cold world
should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
Bonny Eloise.
Copied by permission of Wi, Hall & Son, Music Publishers,
543 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Oh, sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides,
On its clear winding way to the sea,
And dearer than all storied streams on earth besides,
Is this bright rolling river to me.
Chorus. — But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these
Who charms when others all fail,
Is blue- eyed, bonny, bonny Eloise,
The belle of the Mohawk vale.
Oh, sweet are the scenes of my boyhood's sunny years,
That bespangle the gay valley o'er,
And dear are thefriends seen thro' memories fond tears,
That have lived in the blest days of yore.
Oh, sweet are the moments when dreaming I roam
Through my loved haunts now mossy and gray ;
And dearer than all is my childhood's hallow'd home,
That is crumbling now slowly away.
Little Jenny Dow.
Copied bv permippion of ITorace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway. X. Y„ owner of the copyright.
Little Jenny Dow lives beyond the mill,
Her merry voice is heard all 'round,
Her happy smiles are seen on the green-clad bill,
'Where'er the budding flowers are found.
She greets the blushing morn like a dew-drop bright,
And carols through the livelong day,
She gladdens up my heart like a boam of light,
And drives my bitter care away,
cnonus.
Merrily, merrily her winning little voice is ringing,
And the woodland birds are singing to little Jenny
Dow.
Many are the hearts that have sighed for her,
And many that have sighed in pain ;
Many that I know would have died for her,
And, alas ! they would have died in vain.
Little Jenny Dow never clouds her brow,
In sorrow o'er a love-lorn swain ;
With spirits full of glee, none so gay as she,
As she rambles o'er th« hill and plain.
By the gushing streamlets her fond footsteps glidv,,
Leaving little prints in the sand ;
You'll meet her in the dale or the woodland wide,
Giving life and joy to the land.
Ever may she roam with the Bame light heart,
Ever may she sing with glee,
While the summer days can their beain3 impart,
And summer birds their melody.
Come down by the Silvery Brook, Love.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
He — Come down by the silvery brook, love,
While the moon shines bright and fair,
And I'll weave in some shady nook, love,
A wreath for your golden hair.
She — Go, walk alone with your book, sir,
Where the water-lilies grow ;
I'll not to the tell-tale brook, sir,
For brooks can babble so.
Both — By the bending skies so blue, love,
By yonder radiant star,
My heart shall prove as true love —
He — How odd these women are !
She — How odd these young men are !
She (with indifference) — Tra la la, etc.
He — Then meet me down in the dell, love,
'Neath the shade of the chestnut tree ;
Where the rose, and the sweet blue-bell, love,
Are blossoming for thee.
She — A trysting-place 'neath the tree, sir,
Oh, that would never do;
For when you whisper to me, sir,
The leaves keep whispering, too.
Both — By the bending skies, etc.
He — Then meet me down by the church, love,
Where the dark green ivy twines ;
Where the tasseled limbs of the birch, love,
Are bound by the clinging vines.
She — Oh, not in that dismal place, sir,
Where ghostly forms abide ;
But then it alters the case, sir,
If we meet with the priest inside.
Both — By the bending skies so blue, love,
By yonder radiant star,
ril meet in the church with you, love-
He — But I must ask my pa.
She — But I must ask my ma.
She {with indifference) — Tra la la, etc.
39
Tapping at the Window.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co.. Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
He's tapping at the window,
And peeping o'er the blind;
'Tis really most surprising,
He never learns to mind ;
'Twas only yester evening,
As in the dark we sat,
31 v mother asked me sharplv :
'"Pray, Mary, who is thatY'
Who's that, indeed ! you're certain
How much you made me start ;
Men seem to lose their wisdom,
"Whene'er they lose their heart.
Yes, there he is — I see him —
The lamp his shadow throws
Across the curtained window;
He's stepping on his toes !
He'll never think of tapping,
Or making any din ;
A knock, though e'en the slightest,
Is worse than looking in ;
Tap ! tap ! would any think it?
He never learns to mind ;
HTis really most surprising —
He thinks my mother's blind.
'Tis plain I must go to him,
It's no use nowlo cough ;
I'll ope the door just softly,
If but to send him off; *
'Tis well if from the door-step
He be not shortly hurled —
Oh, men, there ne'er was trouble
'Til ye came in the world!
Stop tapping at the window,
And Vr the blii
Oh, man, but you're a trouble,
1 that we maidens find.
40
I'm O'er Young to Marry Yet,
I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young,
I'm o'er young to marry yet ;
I'm o'er young, 'twad be a sin,
To tak' me firae my mammie yet ;
I am my mammie's ae bairn,
Nor of my hame am weary yet ;
And I would have ye learn/lads,
That ye for me must tarry yet.
•I'm o'er young, etc.
I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young,
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er }'oung, 'twad be a sin,
To tak' me frae my mammie yet ;
For I've aye had my ain will,
Nane dared to contradict me yet.
And now to say I wad obey,
In truth I daurna venture }^et.
I'm o'er young, etc.
Row, Row, Brothers, Row.
Row, row, brothers, row,
On the way we go, we go,
Like an arrow swiftty glancing ,
'Tis a summer's night,
And the moon shines bright,
And the beams on the waves are dancing.
CnORUS AND REPEAT.
Then ply the oar, and leave the shore,
Our songs of time beguiling ;
There's nothing so bright, on a summer's night,
When a summer's moonlight's smiling.
Row, row, brothers, row,
On the way we go, we go,
Our homeward course we're steering,
And singing all : Good-night,
^Good-night, with hearts so light,
No strife nor discord feeling.
41
I'm Thinking of Thee, EUie.
Copied bv permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
I'm thinking of thee, Ellie !
When twilight's over all,
And memory hangs upon me,
As evening's shadows fall.
I sec thee still before me,
I hear thy well-known strain,
Dreams of the past surround me,
I'm with thee, once again ;
I'm thinking of thee, Ellie !
I'm thinking, I'm thinking of thee still.
I'm thinking of thee, Ellie !
But wilt thou think of me ?
Will sunshine and its gladness
Outshine each thought of me ?
Of me in sadness living —
Upon whose aching heart
The cloud of life is resting ?
It never may depart —
Still I'm thinking of thee, Ellie
I'm thinking, I'm thinking of thee stilL
I'm thinking of thee, Ellie !
For well I know that thou
"Will drop a tear of fondness
O'er the furrows on my brow ;
But let not memory darken
Thine hours of har>py joy —
I would not that my sorrows
Their brightness should destroy.
Yet I'm thinking of thee, Ellie !
I'm thinking, I'm thinking of thee still.
42
Some One to Love.
Some one to love in this wide world of sorrow ;
Some one whose smile will efface the sad tear
Some one to welcome the light of to-morrow ;
Some one to share it when sunshine is here.
Oh, the world is a desert amid all its pleasures,
And life seems bereft of the only true zest,
If we fail in possessing, with all its proud treasures,
The best of all blessings, some dear kindred breast.
CHORUS.
Some one to love in this wide world of sorrow ;
Some one whose smile will efFace the sad tear ;
Some one to welcome the light of to-morrow;
Some one to share it when sunshine is here.
Some one to love whose affection will cherish,
The sweet bud of hope when 'tis blighted with care ;
Some faithful heart that will ne'er let it perish,
By sinking forever in depths of despair.
'Tis an angelic radiance, a beacon to guide us,
Resembling those lamps that are shining above ;
Tis a guardian from heaven, a light to decide us,
Teaching us wisdom in lessons of love,
CHORUS-
Some one to love in this wide world of sorrow ;
Some one whose smile will efface the sad tear ;
Some one to welcome the light of to-morrow ;
Some one to share it when sunshine is here.
43
Why have my Loved Ones Gone.
Copied bv permission of IToraoe Waters, Music Publisher,
*4S1 Broadway, X. Y., owner of the copyright.
Why have my loved ones gone,
Like the clew 'neath the early sun ?
Why am I left alone,
While all their troubles here are clone?
My days of youth have passed away,
And the shades of life are near ;
But I still remain to mourn the happy clays
When dear departed friends were here,
cuoirrs.
Why have my loved ones gone,
Gone to return no more —
Calmly gliding o'er a summer sea
Whilst I'm left plodding on the shore ?
Why have my loved ones gone,
From the joys and pains of life?
Why do I still live on,
Alone to battle in the strife ?
Alone to struggle in the fray,
Till my earthly cares are done ;
While the young, the fair have vanished from
the day,
Before their sorrows had begun. — (Chorus.)
Why have my loved ones gone,
While the spring-time is on the breeze ?
Gilding the hill-side lawn,
And breathing music through the trees!
The birds are singing in the air,
And the flowers are in their bloom;
All things around are beautiful and fair,
But still my spirit lic3 in gloom. — (CnoRUS.)
44
The Campbells are Comin'.
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay ;
I looked down to bonnie Lochleven,
And saw three bonnie peiches play.
Chorus.— The Campbells are comin', O-ho ! O-ho !
The Campbells are comin', O-ho ! O-ho !
The Campbells are comin' to bonnie Lochleven ;
The Campbells are comin', O-ho ! O-ho !
Great Argyle, he goes before,
He makes the cannons and guns to roar,
Wi' sound o' trumpet, pipe and drum,
The Campbells are comin', O-ho ! O-ho !
The Campbells they are a' in arms,
Their loyal faith and truth to show ;
"Wi' banners rattling in the wind,
The Campbells are comin', O-ho ! O-ho !
Mary Avourneen.
Oh, Mary, dear Mary, I've come back to thee,
But cold is the welcome you now give to me ;
Is there naught, then, in parting, or naught in long years ?
Is there naught in the absence — I've mourned thee with
tears ?
For the gold of the stranger I've left thee in pain,
For the iewel of hope I've come back again,
But 'tis only to meet, like the dew-drop on high,
With the emblem it loves, then heart-broken to die.
Oh, Mary, dear Mary, I've come back to thee;
Oh, give, then, Avourneen, kind welcome to me.
Oh, Mary, dear Mary, oh, turn not away,
Sure it's jokin' you are, in the sunshine to-day;
Oh, now 'twould be pleasant to meet with a smile,
To show you were laughing, yet loving the while ;
Oh, let me not lose all the dreams of the past,
The hope of the future, where joy, too, is cast;
Let your love be my lamp, and I'll worship its light,
Till the heart it illumines be hushed in dark night,
Oh. Mary, dear Mary, etc.
45
Bidin' in a Eailroad Eeer.
Copied by permission of Jacob Endres, Music Publisher, 52
Fourth St., St. Louis, owner of the copyright,
Suke Sattinet was a comely gal,
And loved her parents dear,
Till she met Slim Jim the miller's son,
A ridin' in a railroad Keer.
Slim Jim dad's house was top of the hill,
Suke Sattinet she liv'd near,
'Twas going to the mill,
She met Slim Jim a ridin' in a railroad keer.
'Twas going, etc.
He winked at Sal, and she looked sly,
Then called her his duck and dear !
Says Jim will you have me ?
Says Suke, I will— ridin' in a railroad keer.
But as they ncar'd the old man's house,
Jim began to skake with fear,
And he lost all the courage he had before,
Ridin' in a railroad keer.
And he lost, etc.
When they got to the house he took off his cap,
Then bow'd and scraped so queer,
Says he, your daughter promised to be mine,
Ridin' in a railroad keer.
The old man took his gun from the shelf,
Says he, Slim Jim— just clear,
Or 111 blow you so high, you'll never come down,
Ridin' in a railroad keer.
Or I'll blow, etc.
46
Listen to the Mocfang-Bird.
I'm dreaming now of Hally, sweet Hally,
I'm dreaming now of Hally ;
For the thought of her is one that never dies ;
She's sleeping in the valley, the valley, the valley,
She's sleeping in the valley,
And the mocking-bird is singing where she lies.
CHORUS.
Listen to the mocking-bird,
Listen to the mocking-bird,
The mocking-bird ia singing o'er her grave ,
Listen to the mocking-bird,
Listen to the mocking-bird,
Still singing where the weeping willows wave.
Ah ! well I yet remember, remember, remember,
Ah ! well I yet remember,
When we gathered in the cotton, side by side ;
'Twas in the mild September, September, September,
'Twas in the mild September,
And the mocking-bird was singing fa? and wide.
Chorus. — Listen to the mocking-bird, etc.
"When the charms of spring awaken, awaken, waken,
When the charms of spring awaken,
And the mocking-bird is singing on the bough.
I feel like one forsaken, forsaken, forsaken,
I feel like one forsaken,
Since Hally is no longer with me now.
Chorus.-— Listen to the mocking-bird, ete*
47
Rock Me to Sleep, Mother.
Backward, turn backward, oh Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for to-night;
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to jour heart as of yore ;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep,
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.
Chorus. — Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your* light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep,
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.
Backward, flow backward, oh tide of the years !
I am so weary of toil and of tears —
Toils without recompense, tears all in vain,
Take them, and give me my childhood agaiu
I have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away ;
Weary of sowing for others to reap — '
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. — (Chorus.)
Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, oh, mother, my heart calls for you !
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed aud faded, our faces between ;
Yet with strong yearnings and passionate pain,
Long I tonight for your presence again !
Come from the silence so long and so deep —
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. — (Chorus.)
Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unsellish and patient, like yours!
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul, and the world-weary brain;
Slumber's soft calm o'er my heavy lids creep —
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep. — (Ckorus.)
Mother, dear mother, the years have been long,
Since 1 have slept to your lullaby song!
I then, and unto my .soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream;
Clasped to vour heart in a loving embrace,
With your fight lashes jost sweeping my face,
Ncv.-r, hereafter, to wake or to wee]) —
Bock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep.— (Chorus.
48
A Life on the Ocean Wave.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Son, Music Publishers,
643 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
A life on the ocean-wave !
A home on the rolling deep !
Where the scattered waters rave,
And the winds their revels keep !
Like an eagle caged I pine,
On this dull unchanging shore,
Oh, give me the flashing brine,
The spray, and the tempest's roar !
Once more on the deck I stand,
Of my own swift-gliding craft ;
Set sail ! farewell to the land
The gale follows fair abaft.
We shoot through the sparkling foam,
Like an ocean-bird set free ;
Like the ocean-bird, our home
We'll find far out on the sea.
The land is no longer in view,
The clouds have begun to frown,
But with a stout vessel and. crew,
We'll say let the storm come down !
And the song of our hearts shall be,
While the winds and the waters rave,
A life on the heaving sea !
A home on the bounding wave !
49
Oh, Whistle and I'll Come to Ton.
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad,
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad ;
Though father and mother and a' should go mad,
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad ;
But warily tent, when you come to court me,
And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee ;
Syne up the back stile, and let nae body see,
And come as ye were nae coming to me.
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you my lad,
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad ;
Though father and mother and a' should go mad,
Thy Jeany will venture wi' ye, my lad ;
At kirk or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as though that ye cared nae a flee ;
But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black e'e,
Yet look as ye were nae looking at me.
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad,
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad ;
Though father and mother and a' should go mad,
Oh, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad.
Ay, vow and protest that you care nae for me,
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty awee,
But court nae anither, though joking ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
50
A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
And a wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast ;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like an eagle free,
Away our good ship flies, and leaves
Columbia on our lee.
CHORUS.
Oh, give me a wet sheet, a flowing sea,
And a wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast.
For a soft and gentle wind,
I heard a fair one cry ;
But give to me the roaring breeze,
And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my boys,
The good ship tight and free ;
The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.
Chorus.— Oh, give, etc.
There's tempest in yon horned moon,
And lightning in yon cloud —
And hark the music, mariners,
The wind is piping loud ;
The wind is piping loud, my boys,
The lightning flashes free,
While the hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea.
Chorus. — Oh, give, etc
51
Lost Rosabel.
They have given thee to another,
The)' have broken every vow,
They have given thee to another,
And my heart is lonely now ;
They remember not our parting,
They remember not our tears,
They have severed in one fatal hoar
The tenderness of years.
CHORUS.
Oh ! it was not well to leave me !
Thou could' st not so deceive me,
Long and sorely I shall grieve thee,
Lost, lost Rosabel !
They have given thee to another,
Thou art now his gentle bride,
Had I loved thee as a brother,
I could see thee by his side ;
But I knew with gold they've won,
And thy trusting heart beguil'd ;
Thy mother, too, doth shun me,
For she knew I loved her child.— (Chorus.)
They have given thee to another,
She will love him, too, they say,
If her memory do not chide her,
Oh, perhaps, perhaps she may;
But I knew that she hath spoken,
What she never can forget,
And though my heavjf be broken,
I will love her, love her yet. — (Chorus.)
53
Jenny's Coming O'er the Green.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, ita'usic Publsher,
481 Broadway, N,Y., owner of the copyright
Jenny's coming o'er the green,
Fairer form was never seen,
Winning is her gentle mien ; —
Why do I love her so?
We have wandered side b}r side,
O'er the meadows far and wide :
Little Jenny's full of pride —
Why do I love her so ?
Jenny's calm and liquid e}res
Sometimes bring a sweet surprise,
Like a change in summer skies ; —
Why do I love her so?
Oft her voice so full of glee,
Wakes the saddest memory;
She is younger far than me —
Why do I love her so?
Little Jenny never fears,
Hoping all from coming years,
Dashing off the passing tears ; —
Why do I love her so ?
Can I not another find,
With her sweet endearing mind ?
None with Jenny's charms combin'd-
That's why I love her so !
52
I had a Dream.
I had a dream, a happy dream ;
I thought I saw the spot
Where oft, in youth, I sported free,
Close by that much-loved cot.
The river's tide rolled cheerily on ;
I hailed the olden scene ;
But, iu my full delight, I woke,
And found it but a dream.
But, in my full delight, I woke.
And found it but a dream, a dream.
I thought I felt a mother's kiss,
As oft, in happy days ;
And by my own dear father's side,
I sung my simple lays.
I thought I saw dear friends again,
Who- now no more are seen ;
But, in my full delight, I woke,
And found it but a dream.
But, in my full delight, I woke,
And fouwd it but a dream, a dream.
The woodbine -climbed above the porch,
A sister trained it there —
One who had lived but in our hearts,
Who died when young and fair.
This happy dream filled me with joy ;
I saw, once more, the scene •
But in my full delight I woke,
1 found it hut a dream.
But, in my full delight, I woke,
And found it but a dream, a dream.
54
The Seaf the 'Sea, the Open Sea!
The sea, the sea, the open sea,
The blue, the fresh, the ever free;
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth's wide region round;
It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies,
Or like a cradled creature lies ;
I'm on the sea, I'm on the/ sea,
I am where I would ever be,
With the blue above, and the blue below,
And sileuee wheresoe'er I go ;
If a storm should come and awake the deep,
What matter ? I shall ride and sleep.
I love, oh, how I love to ride
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
Where every mad wave drowns the moon,
And whistles aloft its tempest tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And wThy the south-west wTind doth blow ;
I never was on the dull, tame shore, •
But I loved the great sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh her mother's nest;
And a mother she was and is to me,
For I was born on the open sea.
The waves wdiere white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
The whalelt whistled, the porpoise rolled,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wTild,
As welcomed to life the ocean child ;
I have lived, since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers, a rover's life,
with wealth to spend, and a power to range,
But never have sought or sighed for change;
And death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wide, unbounded sea.
The Dream is Past.
Copied by permission of Fibth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, X. Y., owners of the copyright.
The dream is past, and with it fled,
The hopes that once my passions fed,
And darkly die, mid grief and pain,
The joys which gone, come not again.
My soul, in silence and in tears,
Has cherished now, for many years,
A love for one, who does not know
The thoughts that in my bosom glow.
. Oh ! cease my heart, thy throbbing hide,
Another soon will be his bride,
And hope's last faint but cheering ray,
Will then forever pass away.
They can not see the silent tear
That fal 1 s unchecked when none are near,
Nor do they mark the smother' d sigh
That leaves my breast when the}r are nigh,
I know my cheek is paier now,
And smiles no longer deck my brow ;
'Tis youth's decay, 'twill soon begin
To tell the thoughts that dwell within.
Oh ! let me rouse my sleeping pride,
And from his. gaze my feelings hide,
lie shall not smile, to think that I,
With love for him, should pine and die.
56
Oil ! If I had Some One to Love Me.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
647 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Oh, if I had some one to love me,
My trials and troubles to share ;
One who would love and never reprove me,
But lighten my heart of its care ;
Oh, if I had some one to love me,
To bless and to comfort me too,
The moon. and the stars that's above me,
Would add to my happiness too.
For it's loving that blesses creation —
It is love that makes nature sublime ;
No matter how lofty the station,
To love is a feeling divine.
CHORUS.
Oh, if I had some one to love me,
If I had some one to love,
Oh, if I had some one to love me,
Some one to love.
Oh, if I had some one to love me, '
Creation more lovely would seem ,
The flowers, as they perfume around me,
Would bless and enliven the scene.
Oh, if I had some one to love me,
Whose soul I could really call mine
I would bless all the kind powers above me,
And think that my life was sublime.
For it's loving that blesses creation,
It is love that makes nature sublime
No matter how lofty the station,
To love is a feeling divine.
57
Hard Times, Come Again no More.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Let us pause in life's pleasures, and count its many
tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor ;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears ; —
Oh, hard times, come again no more.
CHORUS.
Tis the song, the sigh of the weary ; —
Hard times ! hard times ! come again no more :
Many days you've lingered around my cabin door ;
Oh, hard times ! come again no more.
Here's a pale, drooping maiden, who toils her life
away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er ;
Though her voice would be meny, 'lis sighing all
the day,
01), hard times ! come again no more.
Chorus. — 'Tis the song, etc.
'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave ;
'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore ;
Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lonely grave;
Oh, hard times! come again no more.
Chorus.— 'Tis the song, etc.
53
The Light of Other Days.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
The light of other days is faded,
And all their glories past,
For grief with heavy wing hath shaded
The hopes too bright to last.
The world which morning's mantle clouded,
Shines forth with purer rays ;
But the heart ne'er feels in sorrow shrouded,
The light of other days.
The leaf which autumn tempests wither,
The birds which then take wing,
When winter's winds are past, come hither
To welcome back the spring.
The very ivy on the ruin,
In gloom full life displays ;
But the heart alone sees no renewing,
The liirht of other days.
What Fairy Like Music.
Y/hat fairy like music steals over the sea,
Entrancing the senses with charm'd melody?
'Tis the voice of the mermaid that floats o'er the main,
As she mingles her song with the gondolier's strain !
The winds are all hush'd and the waters at rest,
They sleep like the passions in infancy's breast ;
'Til storms shall unchain them, from out their dark
cave,
And break the repose of the soul and the wave.
59
The Long, Long, Weary Day.
Copied by permission of Miller & Beacham, Music Publishers,
Baltimore, Md., owners of the copyright.
The long, long, weary day-
Is passed in tears away,
And still at evening I am weeping ;
When, from my window's height,
I look out on the night,
I still am weeping,
My lone watch keeping.
When I, his truth to prove,
Would trifle with my love,
He'd say : " For me thou shalt be weeping ;
When, at some future day,
I shall be far away,
Thou shalt be weeping,
Thy lone watch keeping."
Alas ! if land or sea
Had parted him from me,
I would not these sad tears be weeping ;
But hope he'd come once more,
And love me as before,
And say : " Cease weeping,
Thy lone watch keeping."
But he is dead and gone,
Whose heart was mine alone ,
And now for him I'm ever weeping;
W\< face I ne'er shall see,
And nought is left to me,
But bitter weeping,
My lone watch keeping.
00
Kitty Dear.
Copied by permission of H. N. IIempsted, Music Publisher,
Milwaukee, owner of the copyright.
Arra tair an aigers, Kitty dear
I'm wastin' all away ;
By rayzon of your cruelty,
My brains have gone asthray ;
They tell me sunlight has the stringth,
To make the sinses fly ;
So my poor head was emptied by
The^bright beam of your eye.
Arra what's the use of life at all,
Since you have sarv'd me so ;
I have no heart to work or play,
Lie down, stan' up, or go;
Just like a young tree breath' d on by
A warm but blighten air ;
Your smile has stole all hope away,
And left me but despair.
Arra when you die,
I'd like to be transform'd into a stone,
With outside smooth and shinm',
And heart cowld as your own ;
That I might stand and guard your grave,
When calmly there you rest,
And bear ray darlin' Kitty's name,
Engrav'd upon my breast.
61
Old Folks at Home.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pons ft Co., Music Publisher*,
547 Broadway, N, Y.
'Way down upon the Swanee Ribber,
Far, far away,
Dare's wha my heart is turning ebber,
Dare's wha de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation
Sadly I roam ;
Still longing for de old plantation,
And for de old folks at home.
chorus. *
All the world am sad and dreary
Eb'ry where I roam ;
Oh, darkies how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home !
All round de little farm I wander'd,
Wken I was young ;
Den many happy days I squander' d—
Many de songs I sun^
"When I was playing w my brudder,
Happy was I ;
Oh, take me to my kind old mudder !
Dare let me live and die !— (Chorus.)
One little hut, among the bushes-
One dat I love —
Still sadly to my menvry rushes,
i matter where 1 rove.
When will I see do bees a humming
All rounp the comb?
When will I hear the banjo tumming
Down in my good old home ?— (Chorus.)
62
The Brave Old Oak.
A song to the Oak, the brave old Oak,
Who hath ruled in the greenwood long,
Here's health and renown to his broad green crown,
And his fifty arms so strong ;
There's fear in his frown, when the sun goes down,
And the fire in the west fades out ;
And he sheweth his might, on a wild midnight,
When the storm through his branches shout.
CHORUS.
Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak,
WhoTstands in his pride alone,
And still flourish he, a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are gone.
In the days of old, when the spring with gold,
Had brighten' d his branches gray,
Through the grass at his feet, crept maidens sweet,
To gather the dew of May ;
And on that day to the rebec gay,
They frolick'd with lovesome swains ;
They are gone — they are dead — in the churchyard laid,
But the tree, it still remains.
Chorus. — Then here's to the Oak, etc.
He saw the rare times, when the Christmas chimes
Were a merry sound to hear ;
When the squire's wide hall, and the cottage small,
Were filled with good English cheer ;
Now gold hath the sway— we all obey,
And a ruthless king is he ;
But he never shall send our ancient friend
To be tossed on the stormy sea.
Chorus. — Then here's to the Oak, etc.
63
Brightly o'er Lake and Shore,
Copied by permission ofliRTH, Pond & Co., Music Publishers.
Brightly o'er lake and shore
Hesper is glowing ;
Fair is the soft breeze,
O'er the wave blowing;
Bless thou our homeward bark,
Sweet grace bestowing,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia.
Dear ones await ns,
All fears discarding;
Oh, shield them ever,
All perils warding ;
Still gently leading,
Still kindly guarding,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia.
Scenes that are Brightest.
Scenes that are brightest
May charm a while ;
Hearts which are lightest,
And eyes that smile ;
Yet o'er them, above us,
Though nature beam,
With none to love us,
How sad they seem.
"Words can not scatter
The thoughts we fear,
For though they flatter,
They mock the ear ;
Hopes will still deceive us,
With tearful cost,
And when they leave us,
The heart is lost.
«4
I See her Still in my Dreams.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
While the flowers bloom in gladness,
And spring-birds rejoice,
There's a void, in our household,
Of one gentle voice ;
The form of a loved one
Hath passed from the light,
But the sound of her footfall
Returns with the night ;
For I see her still in my dreams,
I see her still in my dreams ;
Though the light has departed
From the meadows and the streams,
I see her still in my dreams.
Though her voice, once familiar,
Hath gone from the day,
And her smiles from the sunlight
Have faded away—
Though I wake to a scene
Now deserted and bleak,
In my vision I find
The lost form that I seek ;
For I see her still in my dreams,
I see her still in my dreams ;
Though her smiles have departed
From the meadows and the streams,
I see her still in my dreams.
BEADLE'S
Song Book
No. 9.
A COLLECT!' " ?D POFCUJI
COHIG m SUBMENTAL
SONGS.
B«a::2 and Comr Villiam St, N. Y.
•11 r.v: sdos.
PUBLISHERS' NOTE.
The music, with piano-forte arrangement, of any of the
Songs in Beadle's Dime Song Books, can be obtained of,
or ordered through, any regular Sews or Periodical denier ;
or, by forwarding Twenty-five Cents, direct to the pub-
lishers, whose name3 and address are attached to mary of
the pieces, the music will be sent by mail, post-paid.
Beadle and CoMPlKr.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1SG2,
By BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In ihe Clerk" s Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
\ TEXTS No. 9.
A maiden's prayer, -
Banks and braes o' bounie Doon,
Basket-maker's child,
Be quiet, do, I'll call my mother,
Blarney,
Bonnie new moon, -
I 1 sojer boy, -
Bright moonlit sea,
• iian boat song.
Captain.
tes in the air. ... -
Come * _ "in tree, -
tt€ where my love lies dreaming*
the moonbeams linger,
lawn, ....
Do they think of me at home? -
Down at de bar . -
i remember, Tom? -
Eulalie,
Ever be happy, -
Female Smuggler, -
Flow _ : Afton, -
Gen''. ray, . -
Grave of Kitty Clyde, -
Hans • window,
Hark, the vesper hymn,
Harp ot" the wild wind, -
Block,
uthe once more my native air,
I dream of my mother.
Hi l>e no B wife,
I'm not BUCfi an agly man, -
Jamie's on the stormy sea,
Jennie with her bounie blue e'e, -
PAGE.
- 62
45
42
64
55
44
16
8
59
63
24
35
14
26
9
16
5$
21
4?
63
23
15
52
29
26
21
12
56
43
60
41
61
CONTENTS NO. 9.
PAGE.
Jockey hat and feather, 20
'Johnny's so bashful, ------ 10
] .s that we've tasted, 12
In mita, 54
L\iud wurds can never die, 02
Kissing through the bars, 40
Kiss me good-night, mother, 57
Landlord's pet, 33
List to the convent bells, 18
Mary Blane, 49
Miller's song, 51
Mine own, G
Mother, dear, Tin thinking of you,- - - - 64
My mountain home, 29
My old Kentucky home, good-night, 7
Nancy Till, 39
Negro boatman's song, 30
Nettie is no more, 18
No one to love, ...----13
Not a star from our flag, 9
Oh, boys, carry me 'long, 31
Oh, call me not unkind, Robin, 27
Old schooihouse, 37
Once more upon the sea, 57
Our laddie's dead, Jem, 22
Rouse, brothers, rouse, 34
Shall we know each other there? - - - - 53
Silence and tears, 28
Silver moonlight winds, 19
Sleeping, I dreamed, lov^ - - 23
Star of The twilight, 8
Teddy O'Neale, ------- 25
That's what the matter, - - • • .» - - 38
There's a si srh in the heart,- - 50
Three fishers, 40
Way down in Maine, 11
Widow Malone, - 17
Woman's resolution, - - - - 48
BEADLE'S
DIME SONG BOOK No. 9.
The Basket Maker's Child,
BY THE AUTnOR OF "LILLY DALE," " ANNIE LISLE," ETC.
Copied by permission of Eussell & Patee, Music Publishers,
01 Court St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Where the green willows waved by the brook,
And the sweet waters danced and smiled,
In a cottage nestled in a quiet nook,
Dwelt the basket-maker's child ;
'Twas the holy Sabbath eve,
The stars twinkled bright in the sky,
The hills re-echoed tiie night-bird's song,
When tUcy told me she must die.
CHORUS.
The green willows waved by the brook,
The stars glittered bright in the sky,
The wind's low moan the dry leaves shook,
On that stilly night by that murmuring brook,
AVhen they told me she must die.
Oh, weep not for me, she said,
Thougfcthe death-damp has dimmed my eye,
My Savior's hand is beneath my head,
I do not fear to die.
I go to my happy home,
My earth-work is almost done,
And I hear my bl« rti words,
" Let little children come." — (Chorus.)
V 7l
Let me rest beside the brook,
Where the sweet waters flow so miicl,
And carve on the tree where I used to flay,
•• The Basket-maker's Child."
Where the green willows wave by the brook,
And the sweet waters played and smiled,
We have laid her to rest, and carved on the oak,
" The Basket-maker's Child."
Mine Own.
Copied by permission of V,tji. Hall & Sox, Mnsic Publishers,
543 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Come, ope thy lattice, love, to-night,
And let me see thy face so bright,
For near thee is my bliss alone ;
Thy window-pane then open wide,
No longer from thy lover hide,
I wait for thee, for thee, " mine own."
Thy dear blue e$e the violet vies,
Its brightness dims the studded skies,
Its "glance a spell has o'er me thrown ;
• The blushing rose, that 'neath thy tread
Is scarcely crushed upon its bed,
Is not so fair as thee, " mine own."
%
Oh ! come, my love, why longer stay ?
My bark is swift, and in the bay,
To sunnier lauds, come, let us roam ;
I can not longer stay from thee,
Oh ! say, my love, my bride thou'lt be,
And let me call thee, love, " mine owru"
i
i
:?"] It: 1}
. ■! .:i' r. .-..-... 'V
V:
- - 'in ,ii.. ... .11.
. It; H:liU U
-
. n v-il _.
The Canadian Boat Song,
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time ;
Soon as the "woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.
CHORUS.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past
Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
But when the wind blows oii* the shore,
Oh ! sweetly we'll rest our weary oai\
Utawa tide ! this tremblmg moon
Shall see us float o'er thy surges soon ;
Saint of this green isle t bear our prayer:
Grant us cool heavens and favoring air.
Star of the Twilight.
Star of the twilight, beautiful star,
Gladly I hail thee, shining afar ;
Rest from your labors, children of toil,
Night closes o'er ye, rest ye awhile;
Tins is the greeting, signaled afar,
Star of the twilight, beautiful star,
Star of the twilight, beautiful star.
Eagerly watching, waiting for thee,
Looks 'the lone traveler o'er the dark sea;
Soon as thou shinest, soft on the air,
Borne by the light breeze, floateth his prayer.
Watch o'er him kindly, hence from afar,
Light thou his pathway, beautiful star,
Star of the twilight, beautiful star.
Not a Star from our Flag,
I isic Publishers*
■2'.: Boston, owners of the copyright.
Is the [ Washington withered !
;:s of Columbia grown n
Oh where is the blood that once nfvercd,
The blood that our forefather- 1 ad !
Ah. why is this sad desolation
Spread over our once happy land ?
Can the South ever find cons
While blood dies the treacherous hand?
Chorus.— Oh! say, docs our Washington IIvl-
In the hearts of Americans in w ?
Th- D a tribute to memory give.
Bind new wreaths aroui 1 row.
Are our bright stars and stripes now forsaken?
Shall they float never nv
;Xo: not one single star shall be taken
From the emblem of our lib-
Our land shall again be uni'
And our tla_r floating over ea rli Stale;
Then our mutual love shall be flighted
Where now reigns the bitterest hate,
Do they think of Me at Home.
Copied by permission of Horace Watt.^s, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, New York, owner of riie copyright.
Do they think of me at home.
Do they ever think of i
I who shared their evby j
I who mingled in their .
Have their hearts grown old and strange
To the one now flootrted to ncim ?
I would give the world to know-
Do they think of me at I
Do bbey think of me at
Of the Bongs I used to -
Is the harp I struck nn touch
mger wake the string?
Will no kind forgiving word
Come across the raging foam?
Shall I ii'\ sigh-
Do they think of me at home ?
Do they think of how I I
In my happy, early da
Do they think of him t
I
(h>ni mine he'll never r
But my heart will sadly
• •• think of m
10
Johnny's so Bashful.
Copied by permission of Horace "Waters, Mxtaic Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
They tell me the roses
Are leaving my cheek ;
My voice, once so thrilling,
Is trembling and weak ;
And much I'm afraid
I'll die an old maid.
CHORUS.
For Johnny, Johnny, Johnny's so bashful,
For Johnny, Johnny, Johnny's so bashful.
Tis true that he asked me,
Just once in his life,
If I would not like to be
Somebody's wife ;
And whose I knew well,
Though he never would tell. — (Chorus.)
One morning, with Johnny,
I went to the fair ;
He asked what ribbon
"Would match with my hair ;
I said, with delight,
I always liked white. — (Chorus.)
Oh ! if it so happened
I never should wed,
It wouldn't be my fault,
Whatever was said ;
I'm willing, I'm sure,
But can't find a cure. — (Chorus.)
11
1/Vay down in Maine.
Copied bv permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Once upon a time I loved a feilar,
'Way down in Maine ;
Who seen me home with his umbreller ;
It rained so hard that I got scar'd,
And my new calico all got teared ;
And my new calico all got teared,
'Way down in Maine.
Pretty soon we arrived at home,
'Way down in Maine;
Mammy was tickled to see me come,
She asked my feller in the kitchen,
I give him a nudge and didn't he pitch in ;
I give him a nudge and didn't he pitch in ;
'Way down in Maine.
He took my hand and squeezed it so,
'Way down in Maine ;
On earth I didn't know what to do;
Asked me did I like him pretty well,
Says I get out now I sha'n't tell ;
Says I get out now I sha'n't tell ;
'Way down in Maine.
Said he'd be mine if I'd be hisen,
'Way down in Maine ;
But now I knew he was only quizzin,
For see him again I never will,
So boys I'm in the market still ;
I'm in the market still ;
.ii in Maine.
12
Joys that we've Tasted.
Copied by permission of Miller & Beacham, Music Publishers,
Baltimore, Md., owners of the copyright.
Joys that we've tasted may sometimes return,
But the torch when once wasted, ah, how can it burn?
Splendors, now clouded, say, when will ye shine ?
Broke is the goblet and wasted the wine !
Many the changes since last we met ;
Blushes have brightened and tears have been wept ;
Friends have been scattered like roses in bloom,
Some at the bridal — some at the tomb.
I've stood in yon chamber, but one was not there ;
Hushed was the lute-string and vacant the chair;
Lips of love's melody, where are ye borne ?
Never to smile again, never to mourn.
I Breathe once more my Native Air.
I breathe once more my native air,
And hail each happy scene,
That rises round me everywhere,
As though I left but yester e'en.
Oh, how I love the Erin dear,
When roaming in a foreign strand ;
In fancy still nry steps were here,
Home of my heart, my native land.
I've found the hour so fondly sought,
And weep, but these are joyous tears —
The rapture of a moment brought
By long and weary absent years.
Oh, how I love, etc.
13
No one to Love.
Copier! by permission of Lee & Walker. Music Publishers,
722 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.
Xo one to love, none to caress,
Roaming alone through this world's wilderness ;
Sad is my heart, joy is unknown,
For in my sorrow I'm weeping alone ;
No gentle voice, no tender smile,
Makes me rejoice, or cares beguile ;
No one to love, none to caress,
Roaming alone through this world's wilderness ;
Sad is my heart, joy is unknown,
For in my sorrow I'm weeping alone.
In dreams alone, loved ones I see,
And well-known voices then whisper to me ,
Sighing I wake, waking I weep ;
Soon with the loved and the lost I shall sleep.
Oh, blissful rest, what heart would stay,
Unloved, unblessed, from heaven away ?
No one to love, none to caress,
Roaming alone through this world's wilderness ;
Sad is my heart, joy is unknown,
For in my sorrow I'm weeping alone.
No one to love, none to caress,
None to respond to this heart's tenderness;
Trusting I wait, God, in his love,
Promises rest in his mansions above ;
Oh, bliss in store, oh, joy mine own,
There nevermore to weep alone ;
No one to love, none to caress, *
Roaming alone through this world's wilderness ;
Sad is my heart, joy is unknown,
For in my sorrow I'm weeping alone.
14
Come where the Moonbeams Linger.
Copied by'permission ot Oliver Ditson & Co.. Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Corne where the moonbeams linger,
Come to the fairy scene,
Come where the pale light falleth,
With soft and silvery sheen.
Come to the fairy scene,
Come where the pale light falleth,
With soft and silvery sheen !
There I will softly whisper
My heart's fond love to thee,
That fading years can never change,
Whate'cr my lot may be,
What e'er my lot may be.
cnonus.
Come, come, come, come, come, come, come,
Come where the moonbeams linger,
Come to the fairy scene,
Come, come, come, come to the fairy scene !
Come where the moonbeams linger,
And rippling waters play,
Come when the day hath faded,
With footsteps light and gay ;
Where rippling waters play,
Come when the day hath faded,
With footsteps light and gay ;
Where the bright stars shine above us,
And we breathe our hearts' fond vow,
That truth alone may guide us,
Where'er on earth we go,
Where'er on earth we go. — (Cnonus.)
15
The Grave of Kitty Clyde.
j The summer is over and gone,
When down by the slope of the bill,
! Our dear Kitty Clyde used to wander beside
The streamlet that ran by the mill.
Alas ! for the years that have gone,
And taken our Kitty away ;
The eves that were bright and the heart that was light,
Are deep in the cold, cold clay.
CHORUS.
Alas ! for the years that ha. j gone,
And taken our Kitty away ;
The eyes that were bright and the heart that was light,
Are deep in the cold, cold clay.
She fishes no more by the brook,
She wanders no more by the mill ;
We seek her in vain, she will never again
Be seen by the slope of the hill.
Alas ! for the years that have gone,
And taken our Kitty away ;
The eyes that were bright and the ln?art that was light,
Arc deep in the cold, cold clay. — (Chorus.)
She drooped in her fair maiden prime,
Endeared to each heart and each eye ;
The song of the brook can be heard from the nook
Where her once blooming beauties now lie.
Alas! for the years that have gone,
And taken our Kitty away ;
The eyes that were bright and the heart that was light,
Are deep in the cold, cold clay.— (Cnonus.)
Down at de Barbecue,
Copied by permission of Russell & Patke, Music Publishers,
01 Court street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
Now hurry up de work, boys,
While de day is light,
Golly! we'll hub Iota of fun
On de farm to-night ,
De dafkiea all will merry he,
T'> Btrilte de heel and toe.
And kiss de lubly colored gal
Down at de barbecue.
Chorus.— Hurrah, boys! hurrah, boys!
Dance wid all vour mighi ;
Golly ! we'll hab lots offun
At de barbecue to-night.
Clem Johnson bring de banjo,
I'll retch along de bones.
Pompey bring de lamborine,
And wake its dulcet tones ;
De barn-floor hns been cleared up,
Now we can dance and si; ig,
Dat darkey ober dare will turn
De double-action spring.
Just look! what lots of nice tilings
Daf s on de table placed.
And here comes fine old massa,
Wid hi* bright smiling face ;
Now let us laiiLrh and merry lie,
Till early in de morn,
Wid hearts so light we'll go to work.
At sounding ob de horn.
Bright Moonlit Sea,
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co.. Mu#?e Publishers,
547 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright.
Oh. come, love, with me, o'er the bright moonlit sea;
No longer delay, love, I'm waiting for thee.
The winds are all hushed— not a cloud in the sky;
The moon, in its beauty, is beaming on high.
I'll sing thee sweet lays as I sit by thy • ■■:■'
As down the still waters we silently il:o. ■.
Chorus.— Oh, come. love, with me, o'er the bright moonlit sen ;
No longer delay, love, I'm waitiue !<>; face.
Come away, lave, away; oh, why dost thou stay?
'Tis love's witrhimr hour— why. tarry. I pray?
Above and below all is calm and serene:
It wants but thy presence to perfect the scene.
My bosom is burning with anxious delight,
To gaze on thy beauty, thou star of the night.
My sails are unfurled— I am waiting for thee,
To glide o'er the waters, on the bright moonlit sea,
To our home, in the beams of the moon's early ray,
Then come in thy beauty : oh. haste thee. I pray,
Where naught but the whisper of light zephyrs song,
Shall float o'er thy dreaming, thou beautiful one.
Widow Malone.
Did you hear of the Widow Malone, Ohone !
Who lived in the town of Athlone, Ohone 1
Oh, she melted the hearts
Of the swains in them parts,
So lovely the widow Malone, Ohone !
So lovely the widow Malone,
Of lovers she had a full score, or more. .
And fortunes they all had galore, iu store ;
From the minister down
To the clerk of the crown,
All were courting the widow Malone, Ohone!
All were courting the widow Malone.
But eo modest was Mistress Malone. 'twas known,
That no one could see her alone, Ohone !
Let them ogle and sigh,
They could ne'er catch her eye.
So bashful the widow Malone, Ohone !
So bashful the widow Malone.
'Till one Mister O'Brien, from Clare- how quare!
It's little for blushing they care down there,
Put his arm round her waist-
Gave ten kisses at laste—
"Oh," says he. " you're inv Molly Malone, my own!
Oh," says" he, "you're my .Molly Malone. "
And the widow they nil thought so shy. my eye !
Ne'er thought of a simper or sigh, for Why?
Bnt " J.un'u-
11 Since you've now made so free,
Tou may marry your Mary Malone, Ohone!
You may marry your Mary Ma!
13
Nettie is no Mors,
In a little lonely cottage.
By the shady mountain side,
Where the river wanders slowly by the door,
I have ofittimes met a welcome,
When my Weary day is passed.
From the hand of my darling Nettie .Moore,
Chorus. — But I never met the smile
Of that fair and happy face,
As I sit as I oftimes sat before;
I listen to the music
Of the cheerful mocking bird,
For my Nettie, darling Nettie is no more.
Oh, T love 1 my Nettie well,
For she was all the world to me.
But I can never love as I have loved before,
Let me wander as I will,
I can never find a friend,
Like my darling little Nettie Moore.
For there is sorrow on my heart,
That I can not drive away,
And my happiness, my happiness is o'er ;
Yet f strive to be content,
As I toil from day to day,
But I never can forget my darling Nettie Moore.
List to the Convent Bells.
List ! 'tis music stealing
Over the rippling sea,
Bright yon moon is beaming
Over each tower and tree ;
The waves seem listening to the sound,
As silently they flow
O'er coral groves and fairy ground,
And sparkling caves below.
List 1 'tis music stealing, etc.
Music sounds the sweetest,
When on the moonlit sea,
Our bark sails the fleetest,
To a sweet melody ;
Then as we're gently sailing,
\\\ i 0 strain,
And bom _ >in.
ding
Over th" npplinjj
Bi i_iht von moon
each tower and tree ;
List : lis .11 vent bells,
List! list 1 list! to the Convent bells.
Silver Moonlight Sea.
: 7,>itson & Co.. Music Publishers,
'J77 Washington street, J onion, owners of the copyright.
r moonlight wind- arc blowing,
. sea,
y shining,
Gently watching; o'er ray love and me
Now we'll wander, since the sunlight
;> his mac tie thrown,
Cai
CHOI
Silrer moonlight winds are blowing,
Lovely stars in beauty shining.
Gently watching o er my love and me.
Gentle breezes, !o~e, are calling,
Smiling rays of starlight gleaming,
Welcome, darli placid bowers;
he sleeping till the daylight
drops From
List to mos
Sweetest sounds U loi
Twilight shades in sleep reposing,
Warbling birds are nestling now;
Queen of beauty, high though soaring,
List -n, charmer, T dight fow;
Lark of love 11 us,
i
20
Jockey Hat and Feather.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co.. "Music Publishers,
277 W ashington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
As I was walking out one clay,
Thinking of the weather,
I saw a pair of roguish eyes
'Neath a hat and feather ;
She looked at me, I looked at her,
It made njy heart pit-pat,
Then, turning round, she said to me/'
" How do you like my hat V"
CHORUS.
Oh ! I said it's gay and pretty too —
They look well together,
Those glossy curls and jockey hat,
With a rooster's feather.
She wore a handsome broadcloth basque,
Cut in the latest fashion,
And flounces all around her dress
Made her look quite dashing ;
Her high-heeled boots, as she walked on
The pavement, went pit-pat,
I'll ne'er forget the smile I saw",
Beneath that jockey hat, — (Chorus.)
She kissed her hand, said " Au revoir,"
Then I was a goner ;
Before I'd time to say " good-by,"
She was round the corner ;
I tried that night, but could not sleep,
So up in bed I sat, •
And right before my face I thought
I sawr that jockey hat.— (Chorus.)
21
The Household Clo
Copied by permission of Brainerd & Brothers, Music Pob-
lisheis. Louisville, Ky., owners of the copyright.
Oh ! the old clock of the household stock,
Was the brightest t h i n pr and neatest ;
Its hands, though old. had a touch of gold,
And its chimes still rung the sweetest.
'Twas a monitor, too, though its sounds were few ;
It lived through nations altered,
Its voice, though strong, warned old and young,
\\ hen the voice of friendship faltered,
Chorus.-— Tick, tick, it said; quick, quick to bed ;
For ten I've given warning.
Yy>. up. and go, or else, you know,
You'll never rise soon in the morning.
Oh! a friendly voice had that old clock,
As it stood in the corner smiling;
And bless the time when its merry, merry chime,
The winter's hours beguiling;
But a cross old voice had that tiresome old clock,
As it called at daybreak boldly ;
While the morning gray o'er the misty way,
And the misty air blew coldly.
Eulalie.
Copied by permission of S. T. Gordon, Music Publisher, 538
Broadway, New York, owner of the copyright.
Blue-birds linger here awhile,
O'er this sacred grassy pile,
Sing your sweetest songs to me —
'Tis the grave of Eulalie.
Roses white, around her tomb
Gently wave and sweetly bloom ;
Let your silent language be —
14 We will bloom for Eulalie."
Streamlet, chanting at her feet
Mournful music, sad and sweet,
Wake her not, she dreams of m«'
'Neath the yew-tree, Eulalie I
Eulalie, but yesternight,
Came a spirit vailed in white ;
I knew it could be none but thee,
Bride of death, lost Eulalie.
Angels, guard her with your wings,
Shield h(*r from unholy things,
Bid her dream love-dreams of me —
Till I come, sleep, Eulalie!
Blue-birds linger here awhile,
pile.
igs to me
•Tis
" Our Laddie's Dead, Jem."
Copied by permission of Wx. II all & Sox, Music Publishers,
543 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Sae braw we marched along,
By our laddie Captain \cCiy
Sae drear we sit and mourn,
For, aweel, our laddie's dead.
We loved his winsome face,
And his bonnie hair o' brown ;
We need na blnsh for shame,
That our tears are rinnrng down.
Sic pride we felt to say
That he battled at our head;
For bravest among a'
Was our laddie wha is dead.
Oh, Jem, his father'U groan,
And his mither sair will greet,
"When at the auld door-stone
Their murdered bairn they'll meet.
And there's anither ane,
Oh, the young, young bride afar;
Lang, lang she'll wait to hail
Her lover frae the war
We will na only clool
For our laddie wha has died;
We maun ha- bluid for bluid^
E'er we cast our swords aside.
The truest o1 the true
Ye ha' slaughtered on this day;
We follow on your track
As the ban-dogs after prey.
And by the God aboon,
When to battle we are led,
Revenge we ilk shall seek,
For our laddie wha is dead.
23
Sleeping, I Dreamed, Love.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Sox, Music Publishers,
543 Broadway, X. Y., owners of the eopyright.
Sleeping, I dreamed, love, dreamed, love, of thee;
O'er the bright waves, love, floating were we;
Light in thy fair hair played the soft wind,
Gently thy 'white arms round me were twined;
And as thy song, love, swelled o'er the sea,
Fondly tny blue eyes beamed, love, on me.
Soon, o'er the bright waves, ho v.* led forth the gale;
Fiercely the lightning flashed on our sail ;
Yet, while our frail bark drove o'er the sea,
Thine eyes, like loadstars, beamed, love, on me ;
Oh, heart, awaken ! wrecked on lone shore,
Thou art forsaken I dream, heart, no more !
Flow Gently, Sweet Afton.
Copied by permissi on of Oliver Ditsox & Co., Mu sic Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes;
Flow gently. Til sing thee a song in tny praise ;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream;
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou dove* whose soft echo resounds from the hill,
Thou green-crested lapwing with noise loud and shrill,
Ye wild whistling warblers, your music forbear;
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my .Mary resides;
There oft, as "mild evening i r the lea,
•vcet-scem Bay Mary and me;
Flow genii Alton, among thy green braes;
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays;
My M Murmuring stream ;
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
24
Come to the Ole Gum Tree.
Come to de ole Gum tree,
THiar de coon an' de possum prance ;
Oil, come you darks wid me,
An' join in de jovial dance.
Solo — De coon he is above us,
His meat is in de tree,
AVe know dat he don't lufo us,
But fond ob him are we.
Chorus — Den come to de ole Gum tree,
Wliar de coon and de possum prance ;
Oh, come you darks wicl me,
An' join in de jovial dance.
Oh, de wood an' its yalleT leaves,
Oh, de cotton plants and flowers,
Den come you darkey wid us,
For a merry life is ours.
Solo— Around and above us,
De banjo's sweet notes,
An' de voice ob de darkies,
Come rolling from dar throats.
Chorus — Den come to de ole Gum tree, etc.
Come to de ole oak tree,
So softly, boys, as you can,
And we'll go to de ole Gum tree,
And catch dat coon if we can.
Solo — Dat darkey plays de riddle,
An' I de tambourine ;
We am de happiest set ob darkies,
Dat eber 'fore was seen.
Chorus — Den come to de ole Gum tree, etc.
05
Teddy O'Neale.
I've come to the cabin he danced his wild jigs in,
As neat a mud palace as ever was seen ;
And consid'ring it served to keep poultry and pigs in,
I'm sure it was always most elegant clean.
But now all about it seems lonely and dreary,
All sad and all silent, no piper, no reel ;
Not even the sun, through the casement, is cheery,
Since I miss the dear, darling boy, Teddy O'Xeale.
I dreamt but last night — oh ! bad luck to my dreaming,
I'd die if I thought fwould come truly to pass —
But I dreamt, while tears down my pillow were
streaming,
That Teddy was courting another fair lass ;
Oh ! didn't I wake with a weeping and wailing ?
The grief of that thought was too deep to conceal ;
My mother cried, " Norah, child, what is your ailing ?"
And all I could utter was, " Teddy 6'Xeale."
Shall I never forget, when the big ship was ready,
And the moment was come when my love must
depart,
How I sobbed, like a spalpeen, u Good-by to you,
Teddy,"
"With drops on my cheek and a stone at my heart ?
He says 'tis to better his fortune he's roving,
But what would be gold to the joy I should feel
If I saw him come back to me, honest and loving,
Still poor, but my own darling, Teddy O'Xeale.
Oniiskeen Lawn,
Let the fanner praise his grounds,
As the huntsman doth his hounds,
And the shepherd each sweet shady grove ;
But I, more blest than they,
Make each happy night and day,
With my smiling cruiskeeu lawn, lawn, lawn,
With my smiling little cruiskeen lawn.
CHORUS.
Gramachree ma cruiskeen, slantha gal mavourneen,
Gramachree ma cruiskeen lawn, lawn, lawn,
Gramachree ma cruiskeen, slantha gal mavourneen ;
Arrah, ma colleen bawn, bawn, bawn,
Arrah, ma colleen bawn.
Then fin your glasses high,
Let's not part with lips a-dry,
Though the lark now proclaims it is dawn ;
And since we can't remain,
May we shortly meet again,
To fill another cruiskeen lawn,
To fill another cruiskeen lawn.
Chorus — Gramachree ma cruiskeen, etc.
And when grim death appears,
After few but happy years,
And tells me my glass is run,
I'll say, " Begone, you slave,
For great Bacchus gives us leave
To drink another cruiskeen lawn,
To drink another cruiskeen lawn."
Chorus — Gramachree ma cruiskeen, etc.
No. 9 3
27
Oh, Call me not Unkind, Robin.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Son, Music Publishers,
543 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Oh, call me not unkind, Robin,
Turn not thus away,
But bear rue speak my mind, Robin,
List to what I say :
We're over poor to wed, Robin,
Over poor beside,
To gain our daily bread, Robin,
Sorely you'd be tried ;
There's time enough before us,
You're but on manhood's brink,
And time will travel o'er us
More quickly than you think ;
Although the world may scoff, Robin,
Scornful let it be,
When both are better off, Robin,
Come again to me.
Oh, call me not unkind, etc.
Oh, do not doubt my love, Robin,
Claim it when you will,
You'll find my heart can prove, Robin,
Firm and faithful still ;
I should not think it shame, Robin,
Though your head be gray,
You'll find me still the same, Robin,
Till my dying day.
Oh, call me not unkind, Robin,
Turn not thus away,
But hear me speak my mind, Robin,
List to what I say.
28
Silence and Tears,
Copied by permission of S. T. Gokdon, Music Publisher, 703
Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for }*ears,
Pale grew thy cheek,
And cold, colder thy kiss.
Truly that hour
Foretold sorrow to this.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow,
It felt like the warning,
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are ail broken,
And light is thy fame,
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in thy shame.
They name thee before me,
A" knell to mine ear ;
A shudder comes o'er me —
Why wert thou so dear ?
They know not I knew thee,
Why knew thee too well ;
Long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
In secret we met —
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget
Thy spirit deceive ;
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee ?
In silence and tears.
29
Hark ! the Vesper Hymn.
Copied by permission of W:.i. Hall & Son, Music Publishers,
Ml Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Hark! the vesper-hymn is stealing
O'er the waters, soft and clear,
Nearer yet and nearer pealing,
Now it bursts upon the ear.
Jubilate, jubilate, jubilate, amen!
Farther now, now farther stealing,
Soft it fades upon the ear.
Now, like moonlight waves retreating
To the shore, it dies along;
Now, like angry surges meeting,
Breaks the mingled tide of song.
Jubilate, jubilate, jubilate, amen !
Hush ! again, like waves retreating
To the shore, it dies along.
My Mountain Home,
Copied by permission of Fiiith. Pond & Co., Music Publi&hers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Oh, how I love mv mountain home,
Its woodland hills, and murmuring rills;
'Twas there my infant feet did roam,
Along its paths, and o'er its hills.
Ah, then I had a mother dear,
To guide my youthful feet aright,
When ill befell, to shed a tear.
And point me to a source of light.
And then the stars shone brighter, too,
As they bedecked the dark blue >kv,
The rainbow
Were ever flitting g:iyly by.
Chorus— Thou give me back my mountain home,
|] ind hills and murmuring rills,
For there alone 1 wish to roam,
ong its rocks and o'er its hills.
30
The Negro Boatman's Song.
Copied by ]jermi?^ion of Olivet: Ditson & Co., Mueic Publishers
277 Washington St., Bo&toa, owners of the copyright.
Oh, praise an' t'anks, de Lord he come
To set de people free;
An' massa fink it day of doom,
An1 we ob jubilee.
De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves,
He jus' as 'trong as den;
He say de word; we las' night slaves,
To-day de Lord's freemen.
Cnours — De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We'll hab de rice an1 corn;
Oh, nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn.
Old massa on he t rabbles gone,
He lebe de land behind:
De Lord's breff blew him farder on,
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plow,
We own de hands dat hold ;
We sell de pig, we sell de cow,
But nebber chile be sold.
We pray de Lord ; he gib us signs
Dat some day we be free ;
De norf wind tell it to de pines,
De wild-duck to de sea.
We fink it when de church-bell ring,
We dream it in de dream ;
De rice-bird mean it when he sing,
De eagle when he scream.
We know de promise nebber fail,
An' nebber lie de word ;
So like de 'postles in de jail,
Wre waited for de Lord.
An' now he open ebery door,
An' f row av:av de key ;
He fink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
Oh, Boys, Carry me 'Long.
Copied bv permission of Firth, Pohd & Co., Music Publishers,
&47 Broadway, N. Y , owners oi' the copyright.
Oh ! carry me 'long ;
Der's no more trouble for me,
Fs gwine to roam in a happy home,
Where all de niggas am tree ;
I've worked long in de fields ;
I've handled many a hoe ;
I'll turn my eye before I die,
And Bee de sugar cane grow.
Chorus — Oh ! boys, carry me 'long ;
Carry me till I die-
Carry me down to de burying gromV —
Massa, don't you cry.
All ober de land,
Fve wandered many a day,
To blow de horn and mind de corn,
And keep de 'possum away.
No use for me now, —
So, darkeys, bury me low ;
My horn is dry, and I must lie
*Wha de 'possum nebber can go.
Farewell to de boys
Wid hearts so happy and light,
Dey sing a song de whole day long,
And dance de jubba at night ;
Farewell to de fields
Ob cotton, 'bacco, and all ;
Ts gwine to hoe in a bressed row
AVha de corn grows mellow and tall.
Farewell to de lulls,
De meadows covered wid green,
Old brindlc boss and de old pray boss,
All beaten, broken and lean;
Dat alway ' me round;
Old Sancho'Jl wail and droop his toil
When I am under de ground.
*
32
Gentle Bessie Gray.
Copied by permission of Russell & Pateb, Music Publiihers,
61 Court St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
In a chamber lay a little child,
Upon a snowy bed,
^ Her golden hair, in clustering curls,
Waved round her lovely, drooping head,
And anxious hearts and tearful eyes
Were gathered where the little sufferer lay,
And lavish wealth had tried in vain
To save their idol, Bessy Gray.
CHORUS.
Hark ! I hear the angels singing sweetly,
Calling, beckoning me away,
The sweet eyes closed and the spirit fled,
Of gentle, lovely Bessie Gray.
Have I slept and was it all a dream,
Those beings clothed in white ?
Dear mother, was it you that held my hand,
In yours so soft and light ?
And mother, did you hear the heavenly music ?
Did you hear them gently say,
" We've come to take you home to heaven,
To be at rest, dear Bessie Gray ?"
Oh, I long to hear those strains again,
To see those faces bright ;
Mother dear, what makes the room so dim?
Why do you fade so from my sight V
Oh hark ! they come, I hear the angels calling,
See them beckoning me away —
The sweet eyes closed and the spirit fled
Of gentle, lovely Bessie Gray.
The Landlord's Pet.
I was once the landlord's pet,
When I had money to spend ;
For I spent it in drink, and did verily think
It never would come to an end.
chohus.
But now I've nothing but rags to my back,
And my boots won't hide my toes,
While the crown of my hat goes flap, flip, flap,
And the boys twig my rum-blossomed nose.
The landlord called me a decent fellow,
And, oh, but I was vain,
As he got my cash, and I got his .rash,
To soak my poor, silly brain.
But every thing has got an end,
And some landlord's chalks have got two;
And the money which brought me such great respect,
To the landlord's pocket soon flew.
The landlord's coat is good broadcloth,
And his pants are no worse of the wear;
But the landlord's coat was bought by the sot,
And so was his wife's false hair.
The landlord who keeps at the sign of the Fox,
Soon kicked me out of his d<
For landlords can tell by instinct lull well.
"When a body's confoundedly poor.
Now I've got a sprinkling of sense,
I'll sign the pledge to abstain.
And Old Harry may cook me up for a mess,
If I ever touch their trash again,
ciio b us.
For I fain would get some clothes to my back,
And boots that would hide my toes,
And the crown of my hat shall no more go flip, flap,
Xor rum discolor mv no
34
Eouse ! Brothers, Rouse !
Rouse! brothers, rouse ! the way is long before us,
Free as the winds we love to roam \
Far through the prairie, far through the forest!
Over the mountains well find a home ;
We can not breathe in crowded cities,
"We're strangers to the ways of trade ;
We long to feel the grass beneath us,
And ply the hatchet and the spade.
chorus.
Rouse ! brothers, rouse ! the way is long before us,
Free as the winds we love to roam ;
Far through the prairie, far through the forest !
Over the mountains we'll find a home.
Meadows, and hills, and ancient woodlands,
Offer us pasture, fruit and corn ;
Needing our presence, courting our labor ;
Why should we linger like men forlorn ?
We love to hear the ringing rifle,
The smiting ax, the fallen tree ;
xVnd though our life be rough and lonely,
If it be honest, what care we t
Fair elbow-room for men to thrive m !
Wide elbow-room for work or play !
If cities follow, tracking our footsteps,
Ever to westward shall point our way!
Rude though our life, it suits our spirit,
And new-born Str-.tes in future years
Shall own us founders of a nation,
And bless the hardy " Pioneers.'
25
Come where my Love Lies Dreaming.
Copied by permission of Firth. Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, X. Y., owners of the copyright.
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours away,
In visions bright redeeming
The fleeting joys of day ;
Dreaming the happy hours,
Dreaming the happy hours away;
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Is sweetly dreaming the happy hours away.
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Is sweetly dreaming, her beauty beaming ;
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Is sweetly dreaming the happy hours away.
Come with a lute, come with a lay,
My own love is sweetly dreaming,
Her beauty beaming ;
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Is sweetly dreaming the happy hours away.
Soft is her slumber, thoughts bright and free
Dance through her dreams like gushing melody ;
Light is her young heart, light may it be,
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours,
Dreaming the happy hours away ;
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Is sweetly dreaming the happy hours away.
Harp of the Wild Wind.
Copied b^rpermission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Sweet harp of the wild wind,
Thy soft and mellow strain,
Sweet as the notes of Cherubim,
Is wafted o'er the plain ;
It speaks of joy and gladness,
It tells of mirth and glee,
While steps of airy lightness
Move to music wild and free.
Now a wail is on the night -wind
That's howling o'er the plain,
And its numbers, wild and mournful,
Tell of sorrow and of pain ;
They speak of storm and tempest,
Wild horror and despair,
And its numbers chill the life-blood,
For the dirge of death is there.
Harp, oh, harp of the wild wind,
Wake, oh wake thee in thy power,
For a spirit filled with fury
Rules the tempest in that hour;
For the dread roll of the thunder,
And the fierce rush of the blast,
In angry tones they threaten
That this moment is thy last.
Hark ! a strain of fairy music
Now rises o'er the storm ;
'Tis thee, my harp, that now pours forth
Its sweetest lay of song
And answers to the storm-king,
Who his fury pours on thee,
Thy rage can but awaken
My strings to melody.
37
The Old Schoolhouse.
Copied by permission of Firth, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
5-U Broadway, X. Y., owners of the copyright.
Where the silver brook went dancing
Among the green trees' shade,
"Where the birds that sing in summer
Their nests in beauty made,
Where the little path wound crooked
Around the green hill base,
And the vines that waved around it,
Beamed up with careless grace,
Stood the dear remembered schoolhouse,
Its lattice green with vines,
Where the music went in gushes
Through the bright leaves of the pines ;
There the deep blue eyes of childhood
Brightly shone with joy and mirth,
Untouched by all the sorrows
That haunt the paths of earth.
There the silver laugh went gayly
Up on the quiet air,
And the voice of childhood's pleasure
Was echoing sweetlv there ;
There the tones of holy worship
Went up in prayers above,
And the hymn in notes of music
Rose to the Throne of Love.
And when memory looketh backward,
Through mingled bliss and care,
The dear old schoolhou-e rfeettfj
A star of beauty there ;
And when remembrance casteth
On bygone days her light,
Those schooldays i me
With holy sweetness bright.
38
" That's what's the Matter !"
Copied by permission of Frnm, Pond & Co., Music Publishers,
547 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
We live in hard and stirring times,
Too sad for mirth, too rough for rhymes,
For songs of peace have lost their chimes,
And that's what's the matter !
The men we held as brothers true,
Have turned into a rebel crew,
So now we have to put them through,
And that's what's the matter!
CHORUS.
That's what's the matter,
The rebels have to scatter;
We'll make them flee, by land and sea,
And that's what's the matter!
Oh, yes ! we thought our neighbors true,
Indulged them a* their mothers do,
They "stormed our bright Red, White and Blue,
And that's what's the matter!
We'll never give up what we gran,
For now we know we must maintain
Our Laws and Rights with might and main,
And that's what's the matter !
The rebels thought we would divide,
And Democrats would take their side,
They then would let the Union slide,
And that's what's the matter !
But, when the war had once begun,
All party feeling soon was gone,
We joined as brothers, every one,
And that's what's the matter !
The Merrimac, with heavy sway,
Had made our fleet an easy prey —
The Monitor got in the way,
And that's what's the inatter !
39
So health to Captain Ericsson —
I can not tell all he has done,
I'd never stop when once begun,
So that's what's the matter!
AYe'vc heard of General Beauregard,
And thought he'd fight us long and hard,
But lie has played out his last^card,
And that's what's the matter!
Bo what's the use to fret and pout,
We soon will hear the people shout,
Secession dodge is all played out,
And that's what's the matter !
Nancy Till.
Down in the cane brake, close by the mill,
There lived a gal, and h^r name was IS'anc}' Till ;
She knowed that I loved her, she knowed it long,
I'm going to serenade her, and I'll sing this song :
cnoirrs.
Come, love, come ! the boat lies low,
She lies high and dry on the Ohio;
Come, love come ! won't you go along with me,
I'll row the boat while the boat rows me.
Open the window' love, oh, do !
And listen to the music I'm playing for you;
The whisperings of love, so soft and low,
Harmonize my voice with the old banjo. — (Chorus.)
Softly the casement began for to
The stars am a shining above in the skies,
The moon is declining behind yonder hill,
Reflecting its rays on you, my Nancy Till.— (Chorus.)
Farewell, love! I now must away,
I've a long way to travel before the break of day,
But the next time I come be ready for to go
A sailing on the banks of the Ohio.— (Cnonus.)
40
Kissing through the Bars.
Copied by permission of Winner & Kfrk, Music Publishers,
110 North Eighth St., Philadelphia, owners of the copyright.
'Twas in a grove I met my love,
One soft and balmy night ;
I owned my flame, she did the same
And trembled with delight.
"When at her gate, we parted late,
I blessed my lucky stars,
And stole a kiss, to seal our bliss,
Between the wicket bars.
I went again, but sought in vain
The grove, my love to find ;
I feared the worst, and yet I durst
Not think she was unkind.
To solve my fate, I sought the gate,
And there, oh, happy stars,
I found and pressed her to my breast,
And kissed her through the bars.
I asked her why she did not fly,
Like me, on wings of love,
To where our vows beneath the boughs
Were whispered in the grove.
She said, of late the garden gate
Seemed nearer to the stars ;
The hint was plain, and so, again,
I kissed her through the bars.
But kissing leads to graver deeds,
And constant visions brings,
Of golden showers and orange flowers,
White gloves and wedding rings.
And now our fate, no envious gate,
With wicked wicket, mars,
For, wedded fast, we've learned, at last,
To kiss without the bars.
41
Jamie's on the Stormy Sea.
Copied bTpcrmi:*!*i;>:i of Oliyhr Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Bo-ton. owucrs of the copyright.
Ere the twilight hat was flitting,
In the sunseCat her knitting,
Sung a lonely maiden, sitting
"Underneath her threshold tree ,
And, ere da}iight died before us,
And the vesper stars shone o'er us,
Fitful rose her tender chorus,
Jamie's on the stormy sea.
"Warmly shone the sunset glowing;
Sweetly breathed the young flowers blowing;
Earth, with beauty overflowing,
Seemed the home of love to be;
As those angel tones ascending,
With the scene and season blending,
Ever had the same low ending,
Jamie's on the stormy sea.
Curfew bells, remotely ringing.
Mingled with that sw'eet voice singing;
And the last red ray seemed clinging,
Lingeringly, to tower and tree;
Nearer as I came, aud nearer,
Finer rose the notes, and clearer !
Oh, 'twas heaven itseli to hear her,
Jamie's on the stormy sea.
How could I but list, but linger,
To the song, and near the singer,
Sweetly wooing heaven to bring her
Jamie from the stormy 4
And while yet her lips did name me,
Forth I sprung — my heart o'ercame me ;
Grieve no more, sweet, I am Jamie,
Home returned to love and the*.
42
Be Quiet, do? El Gall my Mother.
Copied by permission of Wx. Hall & Son, Music Publishers,
543 Broadway, N. Y., owners of the copyright.
As Kate was sitting in a wood,
Beneath an oak-tree's leafy cover,
Musing in pleasant solitude —
Who should come by, but John, her lover !
He pressed her hand, he kissed her cheek,
Then, warmer glowing, kissed the other,
While she exclaimed and strove to shriek:
Be quiet, do, I'll call my mother !
Chorus — Be quiet, be quiet,
I'll call, I'll call my mother !
Be quiet, be quiet,
I'll call, I'll call my mother !
He saw her auger was sincere,
And lovingly began to chide her ;
Then wiping from her cheek the tear,
He sat him on the grass beside her ;
He feigned such pretty amorous woe,
Breathed such sweet vows one after t'other,
She could but smile, and whispered : love,
Be quiet, do, I'll call my mother !
He talked so long, and talked so well,
And vowed he meant not to deceive her,
Kate felt more grief than she could tell,
When with a sigh he rose to leave her.
" Oh ! John," said she, " and must you go?
I love you better than all other ,
There is no use to hurry so,
I never meant to call my mother !"
43
m be no Submissive Wife.
Copied bT'permiseion of Oliver Dit^ox & Co.. Mn«ic Publishers,
2"i7 A\ ashin^ton St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
rift, -J
y Repeat.
I'll be no submissive wi
No, not I, no, not I ;
I'll not be a slave for life,
No, not I, no, not I j
Think you, on a wedding day,
That I said, as others say,
" Love, and honor, and obey,
Love, and honor, and obey ?''
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not I ;
Love, and honor, and obey,
Love, and honor, and obey,
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not I ;
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not I ;
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not I.
I to dullness don't incline,
No, not I, no, not I ; I REpEvr
Go to bed at half past nine. [
No, not I, no, not I ;
Should a humdrum husband say,
That at home I ought to stay,
Do you think that I'll obey ?
Do you think that I'll obey ?
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not I ;
Do you think that I'll obey ?
Do you think that I'll obey?
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not I;
No, no, no, etc.
44
The Bowld Sojer Boy.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers.
Oh ! there's not a thracle that's going,
Worth showing, or knowing,
Like that from glory growing,
For a bowld sojer boy '.
Where right or left we go,
Sure you know, friend or foe
Will have the hand or toe
From the bowld sojer boy !
There's not a town we march through,
&ut ladies, looking arch through
The window panes, will sarch through
The ranks to find their joy ;
While up the street, each girl you meet,
With look so sly, will cry, " My eye !
Oh, isn't he a darling,
The bowld sojer boy !"
But when we get the route,
How they pout, and they shout,
While to the right about
Goes the bowld sojer boy;
'Tis then that ladies fair,
In despair, tear their hair,
But the divil a one I care,
Says the bowld sojer boy ;
For the world is all before us,
Where the landladies adore us,
And ne'er refuse to score us,
But chalk us up with joy ;
W^e taste her tap, we tear her cap,
■ Oh, that's the chap for me," says she,
"" Oh, isn't he a darling,
The bowld sojer boy?"
45
Banks and Braes o? Bonnie Doon.
Ye banks and braes n bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ?
How can yc sing, ye little birds,
While I'm sae weary fu o' care ?
Ye'll break my heart, ye little birds,
That warble on the flowery thorn ;
Ye mind me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Aft have I strayed by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sing o' its love,
As fondly sae did I of mine ;
Wi1 lightsome heart I pou'd a rose,
Sae sweet frae off the thorny tree ;
But my fanse lover stole the rose,
And ah ! he left the thorn with me.
Oh blaw, ye flowers, your bonnie bloom,
And draw the wild birds to the burn \
For Lumon promised me a ring,
And ye maun aid me should I mourn ;
Oh na, na, na, ye need na bloom !
My een are dim and drowsy warn :
Ye bonnie birds, ye need na sing,
For Lumon never will return.
My Lumon's love, in broken sighs,
At dawning day by Doon ye'se hear,
At midday, by the willow green,
For him 111 shed the silent tear.
Sweet birds, I ken yell pity me,
And join me wi1 a plaintive sang,
While echo wakes, to aid the mane
I mak for him I lo'ed sae lang.
40
The Three Fishers.
Copied by permission of S. T. Gordon, Music Publisher,
70(5 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
Three fishers went sailing out in the west.
Out in the west as the sun went down,
Eaeh thought of the woman that loved hirn the best,
And the children stood watching them out of the
town ;
For men must work, and women must weep,
And there's little to earn, and many to keep,
Though the harbor bar be moaning,
Though the harbor bar be moaning.
Three wives sat up in the light-house tower,
And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down,
They looked at the squall, and they looked at the
shower,
And the night rack came rolling up ragged and
brown ;
But men must work, and women must weep,
Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
And the harbor bar be moaning,
And the harbor bar be moaning.
Three corpses lay out on the shining sands,
In the morning gleam as the tide went down,
And the women are watching and wringing their hands,
For those who will never come back to the town ;
For men must work, and women must weep,
And the sooner it's o'er the sooner to sleep,
And good-by to the bar and its moaning,
And good-b}r to the bar and its moaning.
47
Ever be Happy.
Copied bv permission of Oliver Bitson & Co., Music Publisher?,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Ever be happy and light as thou art,
Pride of the faithful heart !
Long be thy reign o'er land and main,
By the glaive, by the chart,
Queen of the faithful heart,
Oh ! ever be happy and light as thou art,
Pride of the faithful heart,
Pride, pride of the faithful heart !
ChoFcUS — Ever be happy, etc.
Ever be haj-py and light as thou art,
Joy unto all impart !
We will obey thee night and day,
With a will we will start,
Pride, pride of every heart,
Oh, ever be happy and light as thou art,
Joy unto all impart !
Joy, joy unto all impart.
Chorus — Ever be happy, etc.
Ever be happy and light as thou art,
Never from us depart !
On the blue sea, home of the free,
By the wave, by the mart,
Queen of every heart,
Oh, ever be happy and light as thou art,
Never from us depart !
Queen, queen of the faithful heart.
Chorus — Ever be happy, etc.
48
Woman's Resolution.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
I'll tell you of a fellow,
Of a fellow I have seen,
Who is neither white nor yellow,
But is altogether green ;
And his name it is not charming,
It is only common Bill,
And he wishes me to wed him,
But I hardly think I will.
Oh, he whispered of devotion,
Of devotion pure and deep,
And it seemed so "very silly,
That I almost fell asleep;
And he thinks it would be pleasant,
As we journey down the hill,
To go hand in hand together,
But I hardly think I will.
He has told me of a cottage,
Of a cottage 'mong the trees,
And don't you think the fellow
Tumbled down upon his knees ;
While the tears the creature wasted
Were enough to turn a mill,
And he begged me to accept him,
But I hardly think I will.
He was here last night to see me,
But he made so long a stay,
I began to think the blockhead
Never meant to go away;
At first I learned to hate him,
And I know I hate him still,
Yet he urges me to wed him,
But I hardly think I will.
I'm sure I would not choose him,
But the very deuce is in it !
For he says if I refuse him,
He could not live a minute ;
Now you know the blessed Bible
Plamly says we must, not kill,
So I've thought the matter over
And rather think I will.
Mary Blane.
Ob ! once I loved a yellow gal,
I loved her as my life,
She came from old Virginia,
And I took her for my wife.
We happy lived together,
She never caused me pain;
But on one cold and stormy night
I lost my Mary Blane.
CHORUS.
Farewell ! farewell ! poor Mary Blane,
One faithful heart still thinks of you;
Farewell ! farewell ! poor Mary Blane,
Though we ne'er shall meet again.
I've nothing left to live for now,
I'm weary of my life ;
Then take and lay'me gently by
My poor heart-broken wife.
I wander sadly through the world,
But find my sorrows vain ;
These tears can never bring to me
My darling Mary Blane.
Chorus — Farewell ! farewell ! etc.
I buried her at dead of night,
'Neath the persimmon tree ;
De snow was falling thick and white
On her dear grave and me.
And often since in dreams I see
Her well-known form again,
As when I laid her in de grave,
And wept o'er Mary Blane.
Chorus— Farewell ! farewell ! etc.
Then raise no tombstone on de place,
But lay me by her side;
The best, the kindest of her race—
My faithful, constant bride.
I'm ready now to leave this life,
To join her once again,
Beneath t!. unon tree,
Where sleeps my Mary Blane.
Cuouus — Farewell*! farewell ! etc.
There's a Siffh in the Heart,
Copied by permission of OlitrrDitson cz Co..; Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
There's a sigh la the heart, though the lip may be
gay,
When we think of the land, the land far away ;
Blushing garlands around hang In wreaths from each
spray,
But the flowers that I loved when my spirit was gay,
They are fading, unplucked, in the land far away.
There's a si^h in the heart, etc
Sadly I gaze on the moon's bright ray,
And in fancy I follow its track far away
Sadly I list to the nightingale's lay,
It awakes but a dream of the land far away.
There's a sigh in the heart, etc.
Around me is breathing the incense of May ;
Around me is flashing the glory of day ;
But my hopes and my wishes are far, far away.
There's a sigh in the heart, etc.
Faintly I pass on my wearisome way,
No hope of to-morrow to cheer me to-day ;
While my eye shall grow dim and my tresse3 grow
gray,
Still my last thought shall be of the land far away.
There's a sigh in the heart, etc.
51
Miller's Song.
Copied by permission of Lee & Wajlxxb- Music Publisher*,
722 Chestnut SL, Phila., ownen of the copyright.
Oh, don't you remember, Lilly dear,
The mill by the old brook-side,
"Where oft we went, in summer time,
To view the rippling tide ;
And the miller with his slouchy hat,
And his eyes of mildest gray,
Plodding along in his dirty work,
And swinging the livelong day.
Chorus — Ulea, Ulea, Ulea,
Singing the Miller's song.
Oh, Lilly, the mill is torn away,
And a factory, dark and drear,
Raises its smoke, o'er the clear blue sky,
And dims the atmosphere ;
The only time for pleasure now,
Is the Sabbath, all day long,
And what brings back the olden time,
Is the good old Miller's song.
Chorus— Ulea, Ulea, etc.
Oh, Lilly, the Miller's dead and gone,
In the old church-yard he's laid,
And the poor old dog that used to growl,
As round the mill we played,
lie followed in the funeral train,
the village round did throng,
He died upon his master's grave,
As they sung the Miller's song.
Chorus— Ulea, Ulea, etc.
Hannah's at the Window,
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
Poor, lone Hannah, sitting at the window binding shoes,
Faded, wrinkled, sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse ;
Bright-eyed beauty once was she,
When the bloom was on the tree ;
Spring and winter Hannah's at the window binding
shoes.
Not a neighbor passing, nod or answer will refuse,
To her whisper, " Is there from the fishers any news ?"
Oh, her heart's adrift with one
On an endless voyage gone ;
Night and morning Hannah's at the window binding
shoes.
Fair young Hannah, Ben the sunburnt fisher gaily woos;
Tall and clever, for a willing heart and hand he sues;
May-day skies are all aglow,
And the waves are laughing so !
For her wredding Hannah leaves her window and her
shoes.
May is passing — 'mong the apple boughs a pigeon coos :
Hannah shudders, for the wild sou'-wester mischief
brews ;
'Round the rocks of Marblehead,
Outward bound, a schooner sped;
Silent, lonesome, Hannah's at the window binding shoes.
'Tis November, now no tear her wrasted cheek bedews ;
From Newfoundland not a sail returning will she lose ;
Whisp'ring hoarsely, rt Have ye heard of Ben ?
Oh, fisherman, have ye heard of Ben ?"
Old with watching, Hannah's at the window binding
shoes.
Twenty winters^ wear and tear the rugged shore she
views ;
Twenty summers, never one has brought her any news;
Still her dim eyes silently,
Chase the white sails o'er the sea;
Hapless, faithful Hannah's at the window binding shoes.
53
Shall we Know Each Other There?
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher,
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
When we hear the music ringing
Through the bright celestial dome,
When sweet angel voices, singing,
Gladly bid us welcome home
To the land of ancient story,
Where the spirit knows no care,
In the land of light and glory,
Shall we know each other* there?
CHORUS.
Shall we know each other, shall we know each other,
Shall we know each other there ?
When the holy angels meet us,
As we go to join their band,
Shall we know the friends that greet us,
In the glorious spirit land ?
Shall we see the same eyes shining
On us, as in days of yore ?
Shall we feel their dear arms twining
Fondly round us, as before ?
Yes, my earth- worn soul rejoices,
And my weary heart grows light,
For the thrilling angel voices,
And the angel laces bright,
That shall welcome us in heaven,
Are the loved of long ago,
And to them 'tis kindly given,
Thus their mortal friends to know.
Oh, ye. weary, sad and tossed on ^9,
Droop not, faint not by the way ;
Ye shall join the loved and lost ones
In the land of perfect day ;
Harp-strings touched by angel fingers,
Murmured in my raptured ear,
Evermore their sweet song lingers,
V We shall know each other there.'*
Juanita.
Copied by permission of S. T. Gordon, Mnsic Publisher,
538 Broadway, New York, Own or of the copyright.
Soft o'er the fountain,
Lingering fails the southern moon ;
Far o'er the mountain,
Breaks the day too soon ;
In thy dark eyes' splendor,
Where the warm Kght loves to dwell,
Weary looks, yet tender,
Speak their fond farewell.
Chorus. — Nit .1 Juanita, ask thy soul if we should part;
Xita Juanita, lean thou on my heart.
When, in thy dreaming,
Moons like these shall shine ngain,
And daylight beaming
Trove thy dreams are vain,
Wilt thou not, relenting,
For thine abseut lover sigh,
In my heart consenting
To a prayer gone by.
The Blarney.
Oh, did you ne'er hear of the Blarney,
That's found near the banks of Killaruey;
Believe it from me —
No girl's heart is free,
Once she hears the sweet sound of the Blarney.
For the Blarney's so great a desaiver,
That a girl thinks you're there — though you leave her,
And never finds out
All the thricks you're about,
Till she's quite gone herself, with your Blarney.
Oh, say, would you find this same Blarney,
There's a castle, not far from Killarney,
On the top of the wall —
But take care you don't fall,
There's a stone that contains all this Blarney.
Like a magnet, its influence such is,
That attraction it gives all it touches,
If you kiss it, they say,
That from that blessed day,
Ycu may kiss whom you plaze, with your Blarney.
Bonnie New Moon.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers
277 Washington St., Boston, owners ot the copyright.
Bonnie new Moon ! bonnie new Mooi: !
Shining above so clearly.
By Ihy pale light, show me to-night,
Him that I love so clearly.
Down in the dell, where fairies dwell,
Where the blue violet's sleeping,
Soon I shall be at the testing tree,
Faithful vigil keeping.
CHORUS.
Bonnie new Moon ! bonnie new Moon!
Shining above so clearly,
By thy pale light, show me to-night,
Him that I love so dearly.
"Wa3 it his voice stole on mine e?*r,
Soft as sweet music sounding ?
Is it his step wandering near,
Light as some fairy bounding ?
No ! tis the breeze with fitful moan,
Through yonder pine-trees sighing,
Some timid bird to the forest lone,
Homeward fastly flying.
cnonus.
Oh ! fair, Lady Moon !
While I lowly bend to thee,
Look thou kindly down,
Sweetly, sweetly smile on me.
56
I Dream oi my Mother.
Copied by permission of Horace Waters, Music Publisher.
481 Broadway, N. Y., owner of the copyright.
My mother and my home !
Ah, what pleasant words to me ;
They light up my drooping heart.
"Wherever I may be,
And the joys of other days
O'er my senses gently glide,
While lonely I struggle
With the world's busy tide ;
While I rest from my toils
At the close of day,
And bright, happy visions
Around me play,
Recalling the loved voices far away,
I dream of my mother and my home
How old-time memories will come,
I dream of my dear and gentle mother
I dream of my mother and my home.
My mother and my home !
Ah, the happy days are gone,
When all their sweet blessings were
Around my pathway thrown ;
But visions of bright days
Will still come back again,
Renewing departed joys
Like some familiar strain ;
I see many homes
Filled with mirth and glee,
But now in this wide world
There's none for me ;
But the hours brighter grow, and my heart beats free,
When I dream, etc.
57
Kiss Me Good-Night, Mother.
Copied bo permission of Russel & Patee, Music Publishers,
01 Court St., Boston, owners of the copyright
Mother, dear mother, the day has seemed long,
Since the lark warbled his matiual song;
Badly the hours have passed, fled since the morn ;
Darkly the moment that ne'er can return :
No beaming hopefulness, no joyous ray,
Xo cheerful sunshine to brighten my way. *
But, mother, your kiss, turns the darkness to light ;
Kiss me good-night, mother, kiss me good-night.
Chorus. — Thy tender love, mother, turns all to light ;
Kiss me good-night, mother, kiss me good-night.
Mother, dear mother, I'm longing for rest^
Longing to slumber for aye with the blest ;
But when my sad spirit from earth-life is free
Still shall thy presence seem nigh unto me.
Oft thy last kiss shall fall soft on my brow —
Sadly thine eyes gaze upon me as now ;
And often Til say with the angels in white,
Kiss me good-night, mother, kiss me good-night.
Once more upon the Sea.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co.. Mnsic Publishers,
638 Washington street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
Once more upon the sea,
The billows bounding wide,
Here ever let me be,
Rocked on its rolling tide;
Its howling storms, its peaceful calms
Have each a charm for me ;
Its thunder's crash and lightning flash,
God's emblem of the free.
Chords. — Once more upon the sea, the billows bounding wide
Ilere ever let me be, rocked on its rolling tide.
What music like the song
The dancing wild waves sing,
As they career along,
Fanned by the tempest's wing;
And when not a wave is curled,
What joy it is to me,
To see 'neath heaven's arch unfurled,
The Sabbath of the sea.
58
Do you Remember, Tom?
Copied by permission of Sage & Son. Music Publishers, Buffalo,
N. Y., owners of the copyright.
Do you remember, Tom, the spot
AVh ere oft we used to roam ?
That little cot beneath the trees,
We called our forest home ?
Ah, yes ! I know you'll ne'er forget,
Wherever you may go,
That dear old spot we loved so well,
Just fifteen years ago.
Chorus. — Do you remember, Tom, the spot, et
Last summer time I wandered, Tom,
To where we used to play ;
The school-house was not on the hill,
The brook had dried away ;
Our childhood's home had sadly changed,
The cottage was laid low;
The faces were not there we knew
Just fifteen years ago. — (Chorus.)
I wandered to the old churchyard,
And stepped beyond the wall ;
The graves were many, and the grass
O'er them was thick and tall.
Upon the stones I read the names
Of those who slept below ;
And there were names we loved to hear
Just fifteen years ago. — (Chorus.)
My eyes are wet with tears, Tom ;
They're falling while I write.
Friends that I loved are cold in death,
And I am sad to-night.
But, Tom, our sorrows soon will end;
Life's stream will cease to rlow ;
And we shall rest where erst we played
Just fifteen years ago.— (CnoRus.)*
59
The Captain.
Copied bv permission of Oliver Ditson & Co. .Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
As they marched through the town with their banners
so gay,
I ran to the window to hear the band play ;
I peeped through the blinds very cautiously then,
Lest the neighbors should say I was looking at the men ;
Oh, I heard the drums beat, and the music so sweet,
But my eyes at the time caught a much greater treat;
The troop was the finest I ever did see,
And the Captain with his whiskers took a sly glance
at me.
When we met at the ball I of course thought 'twas right
To pretend that we never had met before that night;
But he knew me at once, I perceived by his glance,
And I hung down my head when he asked me to dance ;
Oh, he sat by my side at the end of the sett
And the sweet words lie spoke I shall never forget;
For my heart was enlisted, and could not get free,
As the Captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me.
But lie marched from the town, and I see him no more,
i Yet I think of him oft, and the whiskers he wore,
! I dream all the night, and I talk all the day,
Of a love of a Captain who went far away;
I remember with superabundant delight
When we met in the street, and we danced all the night,
And keep in my mind how my heart jumped with glee,
As the Captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me.
But there's hope, for a friend, just ten minutes ago,
Said the Captain's returned from the war, and 1 know
He'll be searching for me with considerable zest,
And when I am found — but ah, you know all the rest;
Perhaps he is here— let me look 'round the house —
i atlll, every one of you — -till as a mouse —
For if the dear creature is here he will be
With his whiskers a- taking sly glances at me.
(HI
I'm not such an Ugly Man.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers,
277 Washington street, Boston, owners of the copyright.
I think if you look at my figure and face,
You surely might see many worse ;
Could I but in some lady's heart find a place,
For beauty I'd point to my purse ;
By some I am told that I look rather old,
But believe it, that I never can ;
If not an Adonis, I've plenty of gold,
And I'm not such an ugly man ;
I'm not I'm not, I'm not, such an ugly man.
I'm none of your regular beauties, I own,
Still there's something about me uncommon ;
My head's rather bald, and my cheeks rather brown,
And my nose rather puggy than Roman;
Then look at my eyes (I don't say they're a pair),
If my forehead's the color of tan,
I've plenty of mouth, and though few teeth are there,
Yet I'm not such an ugly man ;
I'm not, I'm not, I'm not such an ugly man.
Yet, would you believe it, the girls take delight
In making me food for their mirth ;
They begged I would come to a party one night,
('Twas the pleasantest party on earth) ;
And so, too, thought I. till a forward young child,
With its innocent prattle began ;
And she said with such point that the company smiled,
" La, ma! what an ugly man !"
I'm not, I'm not, I'm not such an ugly man.
Just to pass time away, if I go to the play,
I'm sure to meet something to vex me;
For a lady one night, who sat just on my light,
With her laughing did sorely perplex me ;
That the laughter was catching appeared very clear —
I'm convinced 'twas a regular plan ;
For naught could I see, and naught could I hear,
But — "Oh, look, what an ugly man !"
But I'm not, I'm not, I'm not such an ugly man.
To the zoological gardens I went t'other day,
The giraffes and the lions to see;
Strange birds and queer beasts, no attraction had they,
But ail eye^ were turned upon me ;
Gl
Some called me baboon, and some, ourang-outang,
Or a nondescript fresh from Japan ;
But a lady soon stopped all their clatter and clang,
With — ■•4 Bless me ! that's the ugly man !"
But I'm not, I'm not, I'm not such an ugly man.
Now what's in a face, I have heard people say,
Why that all depends upon liking ;
Mine is one of a sort you don't see ev'ry day,
There are very few faces so striking;
But, " Handsome is he who the handsome thing does,"
Aud this, ladies all, is my plan ;
Will any one have me? What a general buzz !
Why, I can't be an ugly man ;
I can't, I can't, I can't be an ugly man.
Jennie with her Bonnie Bine E'e.
I strolled on the banks of the bright rolling Tweed,
The birds gayly singing, the herds on the mead;
All nature is smiling, all happy but me,
For one is still wanting, ah ! who can that be?
I've wealth and I've rank, I have parks and I've hounds,
I've lawns and I've deer, I have mansion and grouuds ;
But all these without her, what are they to me?
I miss my dear Jennie, with her bonuie blue e'e.
Chorus. — But all these ^vithout her,
What are they to me?
I miss my dear Jennie,
With her bonnie blue e'e.
Her eyes softly beaming with joy and with lore,
So gentle, so placid, and kind as a dove.
Her voice so melodious, 'tis music to hear, •
She's all I can wish for, and all I hold dear.
You may talk of your wealth, but riches take wing,
And leave you alone, wifh adversity's string;
But what can be richer, more charming to me,
Than Jennie's sweet warbling, and her bonnie blue e'e?
Cuorus. — But what can be richer,
charming to me,
Than Jem warbling,
Aud her bonnie blue e'eV
62
A Maiden's Prayer.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditson & Co., Music Publishers
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright. '
Oh, may my life be free from every care,
No stain of earth e'er blight each promise fair ,
Joy, peace and hopes, like flowers in Eden bloom,
And love triumphant, rise above the tomb
Keep me secure Irom every vain desire ;
Light in the soul lives, pure and sacred fire,
Hallows each feeling, o'er the heart stealing,
Each cheering hope, with faith sincere inspire
Oh may my life be free from every care,
No stain of earth e'er blight each promise fair.
Kind Words can never Die.
Bright things can never die, e'en though they facie ;
Beauty and minstrelsy deathless were made ;
What though the summer day passes at eve away
Doth not the moon's soft ray silver the night ?
Kind words can never die ; cherished and blest,
God knows how deep they lie stored in the breast ;
Like childhood's simple rhymes, said o'er a thousand
times,
Age in all years and climes, distant and near.
Childhood can never die ; wrecks of the past,
Float o'er the memory, bright to the last.
Many a happy thing, many a daisy spring,
Float o'er time's ceaseless wing, far, far away.
C3
Castles in the Air.
' opicd by permission of S. T. Gordon, Music Publisher,
53S "Broadway, New York, owner of the copyright.
The bonnie, bonnie bairn, who sits poking in the asc,
Glowering in the fire wV his wee round face,
Laughing at the fhffin low, what sees he there ?
Hal the young dreamer's Digging castles in the air;
His wee chubby face, and histonzie curly pow,
Are laughing and nodding to the dancing lowe ;
He'll brown nis rosy cheeks and singe his sunny hair,
Glowering at the imps wi' their castles in the air.
lie sees muckle castles towering to the moon,
lie sees little sogers a pa'ing them a' doun ;
Worlds whombling up and down, bleezing wi' a flare,
See how he lonps as they glimmer in the air ;
For a' sae sage he looks" what can the laddie ken?
He's thinking upon naething. like mony mighty men ;
A wee thing makes us think', a sma' thine: makes us stare;
There air mair folk than him bigging castles in the air.
Sic a night in winter may weel mak' him cauld ;
His chin upon his bufl'y hand will soon make him auld ;
His brow is brent sae braid, oh. pray that daddy Care
Would let the wean alaue wi' his castles in the air;
He'll glower at the fire, and he'll keek at the light,
But many sparkling stare are swallowed up by night,
Aulder ecn than his are glamoured by a glare,
Hearts are broken, heads are turned wi' castles in the air,
The Female Smuggler.
Copied by permission of Wm. Hall & Co., Music Publishers
643 Broadway, New York, owners of the copyright. '
In sailor's clothing young Jane did go,
Dressed like a sailieur from top to tod,
With a brace of pistuls all by her side ;
Like a female smuguler, like a female smuguler
That feared not wind or tide.
Chorus.— Like a female imuguler,
Like a female smuguler
That feared not wind or tide.
What do you want? says the commodore.
I come to fight for my father's store ;
She drew a pistuel and shot him through
Like a female smuguler, like a Female smugler
Then to her parient ilew.
Oh, mothier, rnothier. make mv bed,
In a taring ried;
Let row yonng maidens mv body bear.
Like a female smuguler. like a female smugulc,
That nothing could scare.
Mother, Dear, I'm Thinking of You.
Copied by permission of Oliver Ditsox & Co.. Music Publishers,
277 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright.
" Mother, dear, I'm thinking of you,"
Said a beautiful child with bright blue eyes ;
u You said if I was good and kind,
I'd some day meet you in the skies ;"
" My darling child," she sweetly said,
" There is above a better home ;"
" Why, mother, dear, see from your eyes
Those little rain-drops trickling down."
cnoitus.
Though many years have passed since then,
And many friends been kind and true
I never see the rain-drops fall,
But, mother, dear, I'm thinking of you
Mother, dear, I'm thinking of youf
And those sweet little rain-drops on your cheek ;
Oh, little then I knew the charm
Of tears— in manhood, now they sneak ;
Speak to me in each walk of life,
Speak to me in fond accents mild ;
Now, mother, dear, I know those tears
Were prayers to heaven to bless your child.
" Mother, dear, I'm thinking of you,"
Said an old man whose life was wasting away ;
His grandchild sat upon his knee,
And with his silvery locks did play ;
" Why, grandpa, dear, what makes you cry ?
Ill kiss those little tears away ;"
" No, no, my child, I'm thinking now
Of mother, dear, in heaven, they say."
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